' 

iftifVfi  ill.  Lifef«F 

52 

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RECOLLECTIONS 


OF  A 


NEW  YORK 


CHIEF  OF  POLICE, 


BY 


GEORGE  W. 


GLING. 


AN  OFFICIAL  RECORD  OF  THIRTY-BiOHT  YEARS 
AS 

PATROLMAN,  DETECTIVE,  CAPTAIN,  INSPECTOR 

AND  ' ' 


\ 

IV  E,  CAPTAIN,  |N 


CHIEF  OF  THE  NEW  YORK  POLICE. 


ILLUSTRATED  FROM  ORIGINAL  DRAWINGS 
AND  PHOTOGRAPHS. 


N R Vw  YOR  K : 

CAXTON  BOOK  CONCERN,  Limited. 
1888. 


L 


^COPYRIGHT  BY 

CAXTON  BOOK  CONCERN,  Limited 

Jr  1887. 

ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED. 


* 


j Sc? 


/ a**"  rfD  • 
u vcl 


INTRODUCTION, 


In  penning  this  volume  of  police  history,  together  with  that  of 
criminals  and  prominent  men,  I have  much  to  say  that  will  please, 
instruct,  and,  I trust,  better  its  readers. 

In  many  instances  the  facts  given  will  be  told  for  the  first  time. 
No  lurid  pen  was  needed,  for  no  fiction  could  be  so  rich  in  sen 
sational  incident  as  the  true  record  of  the  lives  of  great  criminals. 
The  tale  of  the  professional  law-breaker  in  the  glory  of  his  suc- 
cess, the  homage  paid  him  by  the  lesser  lights  of  the  profession, 
contrasted  with  his  downfall,  and  the  misery  that,  sooner  or  later, 
surely  visits  him,  forms  a more  startling  and  deeper  warning  than 
comes  from  any  pulpit. 

My  work  is  not  confined  to  either  sex,  but  treats  of  male  and  fe- 
male unfortunates  alike.  If,  now  and  then,  these  facts  seem^ 
ingly  trench  upon  personalities,  in  the  business,  social,  political 
and  criminal  life  of  the  city  of  New  Yofk,  during  the  period  over 
which  my  connection  with,  arid  control  of  the  police  force  ex- 
tends, mine  is  not  the  blame  nor  responsibility.  Full  well  do  I 
know  the  power  of  that  mighty  combination — Politics  and  Police. 
I attempted  to  make  a stand  against  it,  but  the  result  was  most 
disastrous  to  myself,  and  will  be  found  recorded  in  the  conclud- 
ing chapters.  So  long  as  this  combination  is  allowed  to  exist, 
just  so  long  will  delay  and  corruption  have  a grasp  upon  that 
which  should  uphold  the  honor,  integrity  and  well-being  of  our 
citizens. 

The  incidents  narrated  in  this  volume  are  those  which  came 

c. 

under  my  personal  observation,  and  although  they  may  differ  some- 
what  from  reports  published  at  the  time  of  the  occurrences,  or 
generally  accepted  traditions,  yet  the  official  records  will  bear 
me  out,  and  be  a complete  vindication  of  my  truthfulness. 

3 


4 


INTRODUCTION. 


In  writing  this  book,  no  private  ends  nor  aims  are  sought  to 
be  served.  My  endeavor,  throughout,  has  been  to  l4y  before 
the  public  a plain,  unvarnished  statement  of  indisputable  facts 
which  have  not  before  been  accessible  to  the  public. 

GEO.  W.  WALLING. 


CONTENTS, 


CHAPTER  I. 

EARLY  YEARS. — REMOVAL  TO  KEYPORT,  N.  J. — THE  “ CHINGARORA.” 

“THE  LONG,  LOW,  BLACK  SCHOONER.” A REGULAR  SCARE. 

— ON  THE  “ SPENCER.” — THE  MURDER  OF  HELEN  JEWETT. — 
THE  COLT  TRAGEDY. — DID  THE  MURDERER  COMMIT  SUICIDE  ? — 
THE  PRETTY  CIGAR  GIRL. EDGAR  A.  POE  AS  AN  AMATEUR  DE- 

TECTIVE.— THE  STADT  HUYS. — BELL-AND-RATTLE  WATCH. — THE 
WHIPPING-POST. — CREMATION  WITH  A VENGEANCE. — “ LEATHER- 
HEADS.” — WASHINGTON  IRVING’S  PRACTICAL  JOKE PP.  23-32. 


CHAPTER  II. 

I BECOME  A POLICEMAN.  — “BUTTER-CAKE  DICK.” “YOU  MUST 

NEVER  DO  THAT  AGAIN.” — THE  “ BUTTON  ” CASE. — A SHARP 
PIECE  OF  DETECTIVE  WORK. — HOW  I SAVED  TOM  HYER  FROM 
YANKEE  SULLIVAN’S  GANG. — “THE  FORTY-NINERS.”.. ..PP.  33-42. 


CHAPTER  III. 

ASTOR-PLACE  RIOTS. — FORREST  AND  MACREADY. — “ SI  ” SHAY  AND 
“ BUTT  ” ALLEN. RIOTERS  STORM  THE  OPERA  HOUSE. FEAR- 

FUL LOSS  OF  LIFE. — AUTHORSHIP  OF  INFLAMMATORY  HAND- 
BILLS.— THE  “ HONEYMOON  ” GANG.— ENGLISH  ROW  AND  IRISH 
ROW.  — ATTACK  ON  N.  P.  WILLIS.  — “ STAND  BACK,  GENTLE- 
MEN.”— JENNY  LIND. — BILL  POOL  AND  LEW  BAKER. — DELIB- 
ERATE MURDER. GRAND  FUNERAL. AN  OCEAN  CHASE. CAP- 
TURE OF  THE  ASSASSIN. — “ I DIE  A TRUE  AMERICAN.” THE 

SWORD-CANE.— BOND  STREET  TRAGEDY. — THE  BOGUS  BABY. 

pp-  43-53- 


5 


6 


CONTENTS, 


CHAPTER  IV. 

CHANGES  IN  POLICE  DISCIPLINE. — POLITICAL  INFLUENCE. — FER- 
NANDO WOOD’S  BATTLE. WARRANT  FOR  THE  ARREST  OF  THE 

MAYOR. HE  DEFIES  MY  AUTHORITY. ANOTHER  ATTEMPT. 

THE  SEVENTH  REGIMENT  APPEARS  ON  THE  SCENE. — RELUC- 
TANT SURRENDER. $50,000  WORTH  OF  DIAMONDS. — HICKS, 

THE  PIRATE. A FLOATING  SLAUGHTER-HOUSE. A COSTLY  BAN- 
QUET.  FLOORS  WASHED  WITH  WINE. VISIT  OF  1HE  PRINCE 

OF  WALES. EXECUTION  OF  CAPTAIN  GORDON. MARRIED  TO 

HER  FATHER’S  COACHMAN. MURDER  IN  THE  “ LIBRARY.” A 

JUSTIFIABLE  DEED. — THE  PANIC. — RUN  ON  THE  BANKS. 

pp.  54-67. 

CHAPTER  V. 

THE  POLICE  AND  SECESSIONISTS. — AN  ANTE-BELLUM  EPISODE. — 

PLOT  TO  ASSASSINATE  PRESIDENT  LINCOLN. DOWN  IN  DIXIE. 

THE  SOUTHERN  VOLUNTEERS. A PERILOUS  POSITION  AND  A 

MYSTERIOUS  GUIDE. ON  THE  TRAIN. A JUMP  FOR  LIFE. 

BRAVE  TIM  WEBSTER  AND  HIS  SAD  FATE THE  MAN  WITH  THE 

FUR  CAP PP.  68-77. 

CHAPTER  VI. 

IN  WAR  TIME. THE  DRAFT  RIOTS. HEROISM  OF  THE  POLICE. THE 

BATTLE  OF  THE  BARRICADES. — THE  SHARP-SHOOTER  ON  THE 
ROOF. — WITH  A BULLET  IN  HIS  BRAIN PP.  78-86. 

CHAPTER  VII. 

CAPTURING  HACKENSACK. MYSTERIOUS  VISITS  TO  NEW  YORK. AT 

THE  SHOP  WINDOW. THE  FATEFUL  RING. RECEIVING  THE  RUS- 
SIANS.— TRYING  TO  BURN  THE  CITY. — THE  BLACK  BAGS. THE 

“ BOGUS  ” PROCLAMATION. — BURNING  OF  BARNUM’s  MUSEUM. — 
AN  UNHAPPY  “HAPPY  FAMILY.” STRUGGLE  OF  THE  EAGLE  AND 


CONTENTS. 


7 


SERPENT. — EMBEZZLING  $250,000  TO  SATISFY  BLACKMAILERS. 
— A POLICEMAN  MURDERED PP.  87-IOO. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

ALBERT  D.  RICHARDSON’S  MURDER. THE  DYING  MAN’S  RECOGNI- 
TION.  TRIALS  OF  A YOUNG  WIFE. THE  LOVER’S  PROMISE. 

THE  MURDERER  FREE. VAN  EETEN  FORGERIES. A STERN 

CHASE  BUT  A SUCCESSFUL  ONE. RE-ARRESTED  WHEN  LIBERTY 

WAS  SECURED. — BEFORE  THE  LAST  JUDGE  OF  ALL.  .PP.  IOI-II2. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  NATHAN  MURDER. A TERRIBLE  NIGHT. THE  TWO  BROTHERS. 

A GHASTLY  SCENE. TWELVE  BLOWS  WHICH  TOOK  A LIFE. 

BLOODY  FINGER-MARKS  ON  THE  WALL. FINDING  OF  THE  IRON 

“DOG.” — MERCILESS  SUSPICIONS. — THE  HOUSEKEEPER’S  SON. — 
“HIS  CLOTHES  DON’T  FIT  HIM.” — CLEANSING  THE  ROOM. — AN 
UNSOLVED  MYSTERY PP.  II3-125. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  “ SAWDUST  ” SWINDLE. — A BROKER  DUPED. THE  BOGUS  DE- 
TECTIVE.  MOCK  AUCTIONS. FLANNEL  AND  HOT  WATER. WITH 

A BIBLE  IN  HIS  HAND. — A HORSEY  GO-BETWEEN ..  PP.  126-137. 

CHAPTER  XI. 

THE  THIEVES  OF  THE  RIVER. MURDER  ON  THE  “WATSON.” KILLED 

FOR  TWELVE  CENTS. THE  HARBOR  POLICE. — SCENE  IN  A BROOK- 
LYN HORSE-CAR. “ SOCCO,  THE  BRACER’S  ” END. — THE  HOOK 

GANG. GONE  TO  BROOKLYN  AND  JERSEY  CITY PP.  138-152. 

CHAPTER  XII. 

ON  DUTY  ON  STATEN  ISLAND.-^APPOINTED  INSPECTOR. — THE  “ CAR 
HOOK  ” MURDER. — THE  ORANGE  RIOTS. — A GOOD  STORY  ABOUT 


8 


CONTENTS. 


JIM  FISKE. HIS  DEATH. STEVE  GORDON  AND  THE  $IOOO  BILL. 

— “ BOSS  ” TWEED  AND  HIS  RING. — HOW  WINANS  WAS  BRIBED. 

PP.  153-163. 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

SURPRISED  BY  NIGHT. HOW  THEY  WERE  TO  “ DO  IT.” BROCK- 
WAY, THE  COUNTERFEITER. — THE  PEDLER. WOMAN’S  LOVE  OF 

FINERY. A MILLION-DOLLAR  SWINDLE. ABOARD  THE  “ THUR- 

INGIA.”— TWO  IMPERFECT  BILLS. — SENTENCED  FOR  LIFE. — A 
SWINDLER’S  CAREER. — AN  UNSUSPECTING  CATTLE  DROVER. — 
AFTER  TIFFANY’S  DIAMONDS PP.  164-177. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

DISPUTE  WITH  THE  POLICE  COMMISSIONERS. — CRANKS  WHO  WRITE 
LETTERS. — EXPECTING  COUNTERFEIT  NOTES  AND  GETTING  SAW- 
DUST.  A LITTLE  BY-PLAY  ON  BROADWAY. “THE  THIRD  DE- 

GREE.”— THE  MAN  WHO  PULLED  OUT  HTS  WHISKERS. — FACTS 
ABOUT  THE  FINEST  FORCE PP.  178-197. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

KIDNAPPING  OF  CHARLEY  ROSS. — MYSTERIOUS  LETTERS. — ON  THE 
TRACK  OF  THE  CRIMINALS. — SEARCHING  LAND  AND  WATER. 

— A TREACHEROUS  AIDE. THE  BURGLARY  AT  VAN  BRUNT’S 

HOUSE. — DEATH  OF  THE  ABDUCTORS PP.  198-208. 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

BURGLARS. HOW  THEY  WORK. PRETTY  SERVANT  GIRLS. A LITTLE 

PIECE  OF  SCARLET  RIBBON. — THIEVES  ON  THE  ROOF. A LEAP 

IN  THE  DARK. “ STUTTERING  JOHN  ” ASHORE  IN  JERSEY. 

HOW  PICKPOCKETS  OPERATE. A MAN  WHO  KNEW  IT  ALL. 

ARRESTED  AT  SIGHT. HOW  I WAS  FINED. — -THIEVES  WHO 

TALKED  FROM  THEIR  CELL  DOORS PP.  209-223. 


CONTENTS. 


II 


DAY-SCHOOL  TEACHER  WHO  FORGED  CHECKS  FOR  $250,000. — 
THREE  MEN  WHO  CAME  FROM  A HOUSE  IN  ALLEN  STREET  ON 

. A DARK  WINTER’S  NIGHT. HOW  JAMES  A.  GARFIELD  WAS 

NEARLY  DEFEATED. THE  FORGER  WITH  BLACK  EYES  AND 

RAVEN  HAIR.  —LORD  ASHBURTON  AND  HIS  ROMANTIC  CAREER. 

ROCKY  MOUNTAIN  BLACKMAILERS. THE  UNION  BANK  OF 

LONDON  FORGERIES PP.  335-349. 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

SWINDLERS  AND  BLACKMAILERS. “ HE  CAN’T  BEAT  ME  PLAYIN’ 

POKER.” A SWINDLER  SWINDLED. — DIVORCES  PROCURED  BY 

WHOLESALE. SWINDLING  A GREAT  DRY  GOODS  HOUSE. A 

BANK  BILL. HOW  TO  PUNISH  A BLACKMAILER. “ I CAME  IN 

HERE  TO  KILL  YOU.” PP.  350-361. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

A PLOT  OF  NIHILISTS. THREATENING  LETTERS. LITTLE  ROSA 

STRASBURGER. A CAUTIOUS  RABBI. — DETECTIVE  CAMPBELL’S 

WATCH. “.I’LL  BLOW  YOUR  BRAINS  OUT.” A BLACKMAILER’S 

DEATH. LETTERS  TO  JAY  GOULD. INTERESTED  IN  “SALVA- 
TION.”  WATCHING  THE  MAILING-BOXES. THE  MYSTERY 

SOLVED PP.  362-372. 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 

PRIZE-FIGHTING  AND  FIGHTERS. THE  LAW  ON  THE  SUBJECT. 

EARLY  HEROES  IN  THE  “ RING.” AN  ADVENTURE  WITH  “ BILL  ” 

HARRINGTON. JOHN  MORRISSEY. HIS  ARRIVAL  IN  NEW  YORK. 

JOHN  L.  SULLIVAN. HIS  LIFE. FARO. “ EDE  ” NORRIS  AND 

HIS  VISITORS. LEGAL  ASPECT  OF  GAMBLING. WHY  IT  IS  NOT 

SUPPRESSED. A REMEDY. PLAYING  ON  A SYSTEM. A SUC- 
CESSFUL GAMBLER. — POLICY,  KENO  AND  POKER. MATTHIAS 

DANSER’S  MONEY. CUTTING  COUPONS  BY  CANDLE  LIGHT. 

$8000  UNDER  SEWING-MACHINE  PLATES. — A GAMBLER’S  FOR- 
TUNE GIVEN  TO  THE  CHURCH PP.  373-386. 


12 


CONTENTS, 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

A GLIMPSE  OF  PRISONS. — A NIGHT  IN  A STATION-HOUSE  CELL. — 
SOBBING  BOYS  AND  CURSING  WOMEN. — SHRIEKS  OF  TERROR 

THROUGH  THE  CORRIDORS. LUXURIOUS  LIVING  IN  LUDLOW 

STREET  JAIL. WARD’S  DINNER-PARTIES. — BECKY  JONES’  GOAT- 

RACE  WITH  JAMES  D.  FISH. LIFE  IN  THE  TOMBS.  PP.  387-398. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

MURDERS  AND  MURDERERS. THE  BLOODY  AFFRAY  IN  “ SHANG  ” 

DRAPER’S  SALOON. — RUNNING  INTO  THE  ARMS  OF  A DETEC- 
TIVE.  PROSTRATE  ON  THE  FLOOR  IN  A POOL  OF  BLOOD. 

THE  SNOW  ON  TWELFTH  STREET  DEFILED  WITH  GORE. THE 

SKELETON  IN  THE  CELLAR. — KNOCKED  DOWN  AND  KILLED  AT 

EARLY  DAWN. THE  MURDERER  OF  MRS.  HULL  CAUGHT  BY  A 

REPORTER PP.  399-417. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

THE  CHINESE  QUARTER. — HAUNTS  OF  CHINESE  VICE. A SUNDAY’S 

VISIT. IN  AN  OPIUM  JOINT. — THE  GAME  OF  POLICY. — AT  THE 

FONG  TONG  TABLE.  THE  SOCIAL  EVIL. DEGRADATION  OF 

WHITE  WOMEN. THE  EVIL  OF  THE  LAUNDRIES. — CHINESE  AND 

AMERICAN  MARRIAGES. BEFORE  THE  GREAT  JOSS.  PP.  418-433. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

ABORTIONISTS. — MADAM  RESTELL’S  PALACE  OF  WICKEDNESS. — A 

RAID  BY  ANTHONY  COMSTOCK. SUICIDE  IN  A BATH  TUB. — 

THE  NAKED  CORPSE  FOUND  IN  A TRUNK. A SHRIEK  WHICH 

STARTLED  THE  COURT. “ FOR  GOD’S  SAKE,  SPARE  MY  POOR 

FRANK.” PP.  434-442. 


CONTENTS. 


*3 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

FRAUDS  ON  INSURANCE  COMPANIES. — A NOTABLE  INSTANCE. — ERNST 
ULING  AND  HIS  CLEVER  SCHEMES. — CONVULSIONS  AND  SOAP. — 
A LIVELY  CORPSE. — WHAT  THE  COFFIN  CONTAINED. — THE  LAST 
SAD  RITES  QVER  NINETEEN  BRICKS. — HID  UNDER  THE  BED. — A 

FULL  CONFESSION.— FINK,  THE  UNDERTAKER. STATE’S  PRISON 

FOR  BOTH PP.  443-448. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

BEGGARS. — THE  DUDE  MENDICANT. — FROM  BEGGING  TO  THIEVING. 

TILL  TAPPERS.  SNEAK  THIEVES  ROBBING  RUFUS  LORD.  

SHOPLIFTING. — HOW  THE  lt  CONFIDENCE  ” GAME  IS  WORKED. 
— CATCHING  A TARTAR. — THE  USE  OF  DRUGS  BY  THIEVES. — 
A MISTAKEN  IDEA PP.  449-466. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 


A POT  POURRI  OF  CRIMES. — A BLOODY  ASSASSINATION  IN  FRONT 

of  Sutherland’s  restaurant.  — the  muffled  groan  of 

“ MURDER  ! ” HIGHWAY  ROBBERIES  IN  A THIRD  AVENUE  CAR. 

GARROTED  IN  THE  FOURTH  AVENUE  TUNNEL. — A THIEF 

TRIPPED  UP  BY  A SERVANT  GIRL. — THE  RICH  MAN’S  SON  WHO 

SHOT  A LAWYER. GRADY,  THE  MASCULINE  RIVAL  OF  MADAME 

MANDELBAUM. A RASCALLY  THEOLOGIAN PP.  467-478. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

THE  DIVES  OF  NEW  YORK. FROM  THE  HAYMARKET  TO  THE  MORGUE 

IN  THE  CREMORNE. TOM  .GOULD’S  DIVE. — HARRY  HILL’S  THE- 
ATRE.— AT  THE  AMERICAN  MABILLE. VICE  IN  THE  BLACK-AND- 

TAN. THE  CAN-CAN  IN  ITS  GLORY. — BILLY  m’gLORY’s  SYSTEM. 


14 


CONTENTS. 


THE  WRECK  OF  A WOMAN. THE  SAILORS’  DIVES. — A FRENCH 

BALL PP.  479-496. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

BUTCHER-CART  THIEVES. — STARVING  CHILDREN  IN  11  THE  SHEP- 
HERD’S fold.”  — Garfield’s  murderer  at.  police  head- 
quarters.  THE  WOMAN  WHO  THOUGHT  SHE  WAS  SHADOWED. 

— THE  NOTORIOUS  FLORENTINE  FORGERS. — A VISIT  TO  EU- 
ROPE.— HOW  THE  EXCISE  LAWS  ARE  EVADED PP.  497-516. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

THE  DETECTIVE  OF  ROMANCE. — SOME  POPULAR  ERRORS  CORRECTED. 

LOST  CHILDREN. MYSTERIOUS  DISAPPEARANCES. MISSING  MR. 

SMITH. HOW  I FOUND  HIM. STEPPING  OVER  THE  COUNTY  LINE. 

LIVINGSTONE  THE  FORGER. — A CHASE  AS  FAR  AS  CHICAGO. — AN 

ACCOMPLISHED  PENMAN. MORTGAGING  A DEAD  MAN’S  PROPERTY. 

— CLEVER  TRICK  ON  A LAWYER. — THE  STORY  OF  A WATCH. 

pp-  5*7~53°- 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

TRAIN  ROBBERS  IN  HOBOKEN,  N.  J. — THE  CASHIER’S  SATCHEL. — A 
BALKY  HORSE. — CLEVERLY  CAPTURED. — EX-POLICEMAN  NU- 
GENT’S  EXPLOIT. — THE  CHARLTON  STREET  GANG  OF  PIRATES. — 
SILK  STEALING  ON  A STORMY  NIGHT. — BANK  BURGLARS  FOILED. 

— how  mr.  .Alexander’s  plan  miscarried. — pots  of  “ jam.” 

— THE  CONSPIRACY  FOILED. — “ JOHNNY”  ROWE  AND  HIS  CLUB- 
HOUSE.— HOW  THE  PLUMBER  WAS  ROPED  IN. — HIS  REVENGE. 

PP-  S31" 542. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 


REMARKABLE  CRIMES  IN  BROOKLYN. SUPT.  CAMPBELL  AS  A DETEC- 
TIVE.  THE  HEAD  THAT  WAS  FOUND  IN  A LUMBER  YARD. — A 


CONTENTS, 


15 


HORRIBLE  SMELL. THE  DETECTIVES’  DISCOVERY. — WHAT  WAS 

BOILING  IN  THE  POT. AN  INHUMAN  DEED. THE  GOODRICH 

MURDER. LOOKING  FOR  KATE  STODDARD. A FEMALE  DETEC- 

TIVE AND  HER  PROVIDENTIAL  MEETING  WITH  THE  MURDERESS. 
ONLY  A LOCKET. CRUMBS  OF  CONGEALED  BLOOD. SEARCH- 
ING EVERY  HOUSE  IN  BROOKLYN. — SUCCESS  AT  LAST. 

pp-  543-55  !• 


CHAPTER  XL. 


CHIEF  STEWART  OF  THE  PHILADELPHIA  POLICE. — STORY  OF  A 
CRANK. — SAVED  FROM  HIS  ENEMIES. — CHIEF  KELLY,  OF  THE 

PHILADELPHIA  DETECTIVES. POOR  KIRBY,  AND  HOW  HE  WAS 

KILLED  BY  POLITENESS. — CLEVERLY  LAID  PLANS  MISCARRY. A 

PLOT  TO  STEAL  $11,000,000. COPPER  INSTEAD  OF  GOLD. DISAP- 
POINTMENT AND  DEATH. “ GOPHER  BILL,”  THE  CUNNING  COUN- 
TERFEITER.  HIS  CAREER  AND  HOW  HE  WAS  CAPTURED. 

WALTER  SHERIDAN. — A CURIOUS  HISTORY. A CASE  OF  SHANG- 

HAI.— THE  “ BUNDLE  ” GAME. — PRINTED  DESCRIPTIONS  OF 
THIEVES. — SOME  CURIOUS  SPECIMENS. — A BRUTAL  MURDER  IN 

PENNSYLVANIA. ROBBERY  OF  THE  PHILADELPHIA  MINT. A BAR 

OF  SILVER  THAT  WASN’T  MISSED PP.  552-57 1. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

JUSTICE’S  JUSTICE  IN  NEW  YORK. — HOW  THE  WHEELS  ARE  “COGGED.” 
— AN  INADEQUATE  JUDICIARY. — EVASION  OF  PUNISHMENT. — 

SEVERAL  INSTANCES. “ BUNCO  ” MEN  AND  SWINDLERS. WHY 

THEY  ARE  NOT  BROUGHT  TO  TRIAL. ROUGH  ON  THE  COMPLAIN- 
ANT.  SEVENTEEN  WEEKS  IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  DETENTION. 

“ FINE  WORK.” SOMETHING  ABOUT  GAMBLERS. NOT  A SINGLE 

HONEST  ONE. WALL  STREET’S  INSATIABLE  MAW. — SOLITARY  MR. 

SMITH,  OF  RHODE  ISLAND. WHERE  ALL  THE  MONEY  GOES. 

POLICE  CAPTAINS  SHOULD  BE  MADE  RESPONSIBLE  FOR  THE  EXIST- 
ENCE OF  “ HELLS.” BLACKMAIL  LEVIED  ON  GAMBLING  HOUSES. 

PP*  572~578- 


REMEDIES  SUGGESTED 


i6 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XLII, 

THE  “SOCIAL  EVIL”  AGAIN. HOW  TO  CLEAR  A RESPECTABLE 

NEIGHBORHOOD. A NOVEL  PLAN. — CAPTAINS  NOT  UNAWARE 

OF  ILLEGAL  RESORTS  IN  THEIR  PRECINCTS. “FIXED  UP”  RE- 
PORTS.   MISREPRESENTATIONS  WHICH  HAVE  OCCURRED.  — , 

BLACKMAILING  BY  DETECTIVES.  HOW  I CAUGHT  THE  OF- 
FENDERS.   A STORY  WITH  AN  INTERESTING  SEQUEL.  — 

“PLIN”  WHITE’S  WONDERFUL  CAREER. — HOW  HE  WENT  HOME 
TO  DIE PP.  579-588. 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

INFORMATION  TO  REPORTERS. — ABUSES  WHICH  CREEP  IN. — A CASE 
IN  POINT. — BLISSFUL  IGNORANCE  OF  THE  PUBLIC. — PUNISH- 
MENT NOT  THE  SOLE  PURPOSE  OF  A COURT  OF  JUSTICE. ITS 

REAL  END  AND  AIM. FULL  PUBLICATION  DESIRABLE  UNDER 

CERTAIN  RESTRICTIONS. A PARALLEL  CASE  WITH  THAT  OF  MR. 

COMMISSIONER  SQUIRE. HOW  MR.  DISBECKER  BECAME  A 

POLICE  COMMISSIONER. WHY  HE  DID  NOT  RESIGN. PERSONAL 

APPEARANCE  OF  THE  “ FINEST.” HOW  IT  CAN  BE  IMPROVED. 

A PROPOSED  “ SCHOOL  OF  DEPORTMENT.” THE  ART  OF  WEAR- 
ING CLOTHES. MR.  E.  BERRY  WALL  AS  AN  INSTRUCTOR. A 

POLICEMAN  WITH  A PERFECT  MENTAL  EQUILIBRIUM.— WHAT  A 

VICTORY  ! EFFECT  OF  POLITENESS  ON  THE  LOWER  CLASSES. A 

POWERFUL  OBJECT  LESSON.  . . . . PP.  589-595. 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

TWO  MAIN  CAUSES  OF  CRIME. — MUNICIPAL  GOVERNMENT  IN  NEW 
YORK. — “ POLITICS  ” SYNONYMOUS  WITH  POWER  AND  PLUNDER. 

THE  PREDOMINANT  IDEA  IN  A POLITICAL  CAMPAIGN. ALL 

THE  SNEAKS  ARE  REPUBLICANS,  AND  ALL  THE  ROUGHS  ARE 

DEMOCRATS. NEW  YORK  RULED  BY  THE  WORST  ELEMENTS  IN 

THE  COMMUNITY. WHY  THE  BETTER  CLASSES  DO  NOT  ATTEND 

THE  PRIMARIES. RESULTS  OF  QUR  FORM  OF  GOVERNMENT. 


CONTENTS. 


<7 


EXCESSIVE  TAXATION.  — SHAMEFUL  STREETS.  — DISGRACEFUL 
DOCKS. — INSUFFICIENT  SCHOOL  ACCOMMODATION. — THE  JUDICI- 
ARY.— NOT  AN  EDIFYING  SIGHT. — HOW  JUSTICE  IS  PERVERTED. 
— WHY  JAY  GOULD  COULD  DEFY  THE  LAW. — PERSECUTING  A 
PROSECUTOR. — OUR  LIBERTIES  CURTAILED.— ONE  LAW  FOR  THE 
RICH  AND  ANOTHER  FOR  THE  POOR. — THE  EXCISE  LAWS. — SOME 
SUGGESTIONS. — THE  SOCIAL  EVIL  AND  HOW  TO  DEAL  WITH  IT. — 
THE  COMMISSIONER  OF  JURORS.  — UNIVERSAL  SUFFRAGE  A 
FAILURE. — DIFFICULTIES  IN  THE  PATH  OF  REFORM. — THE 
ROOT  OF  THE  EVIL. — REMEDIES. — THE  LAST  PAGE. 

PP.  596-608. 


J 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


The  illustrations  of  this  work  are  from  original  drawings  by  the  fallowing 
well-known  artists : Baron  C.  DeGrimm,  (by  permission  of  Mr.  James  Gordon 
Bennett),  Valerian  Gribayedoff,  James  A.  Wales  of  “Puck,”  Wm.  F.  Me 
Dougall  and  Geo.  Folsom.  Philip  G.  Cusachs,  Chas.  Broughton,  A.  Meyer, 
H.  E.  Patterson,  Louis  Dalrymple,  Jno.  A.  McDougall,  Jr.,  C.  Beecher, 
A.  B.  Shults  and  J.  F.  J.  Tresch. 

page  drawn  «y 

Geo.  W.  Walling .Frontispiece. 

25.  Helen  Jewett Wm.  E.  McDougall. 

26.  Richard  P.  Robinson , “ 

27.  Colt  Tragedy — The  Discovery McDougall  and  Folsom. 

28.  Mary  Rogers’ Resting-Place “ 

30.  The  Ducking  Stool C.  BeecJver . 

31.  The  Pillory  and  Whipping  Post “ 

37.  Old  Bowery  Theatre. Geo.  Folsom. 

41.  Tom  Hyer “ V.  GF 

42.  Yankee  Sullivan “ 

45.  Astor  Place  Riot  Phil.  G.  Cusachs. 

49.  Bill  Poole “ V.  G .” 

50.  Murder  of  Bill  Poole — Stanwix  Hall H.  E.  Patterson. 

57.  Mayor  Fernando  Wood i J E.J.  Tresch. 

59.  Fight  Between  the  Metropolitan  and  Mu- 
nicipal Police Valerian  Gribayedoff. 

63.  Prince  of  Wales’  Ball James  A.  Wales. 

65.  Hanging  of  Gordon  the  Slave  Trader Phil.  G.  Cusachs. 

70.  Detective  Thomas  Sampson.  

73.  Willard’s  Hotel,  Washington,  D.  C McDougall  and  Folsom. 

76.  The  Leap  for  Life “ 

81.  Battle  of  rHE  Barricades J.  F.  J.  Tresch. 

83.  At  the  Church  « 

90.  The  Widow  at  Work Louis  Dalrymple. 

92.  “This  Woman  is  a Thief” H.  E.  Patterson. 

95.  Burning  of  Barnum’s  Museum.  McDougall  and  Folsom. 

102.  The  Death-bed  Recognition “ 

109.  The  Forged  Check a.  Meyer. 

1 16.  An  Unsolved  Mystery. Chas.  Broughton. 

1 18.  Supt.  John  Jourdan. 

129.  A Biter  Bitten Phil.  G.  Cusachs . 


9 


20 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE  DRAWN  BY 

136.  A Horsey  Go-Between Phil.  G.  Cusachs. 

140.  Police  and  River  Pirates  “ 

147.  Wharf  Rats  at  Work “ 

155.  Car  Hook  Murder  J.  A.  McDougall,  Jr. 

157.  Orange  Parade  Phil.  G.  Cusachs. 

158.  James  Fiske,  Jr 

168.  The  Pedlar  at  the  Door H.  E.  Patterson. 

170  The  Counterfeiters’ Den. A.  Meyer. 

173.  A Warm  Welcome.  H.  E.  Patterson. 

178.  Supt.  Walling’s  Badge 

180.  Police  Headquarters,  Mulberry  Street Geo.  Folsom. 

183.  Supt.  Walling’s  Office McDougall  and  Folsom. 

185.  Rogues’ Gallery  and  Mementoes * “ 

186.  The  Cell  Corridor Geo.  Folsom. 

187.  The  Museum — Burglars’ Tools McDougall  and  Folsom. 

188.  “ “ — Relics  of  Crime “ 

190.  Inspector  Byrnes’  Office “ 

191.  Private  Rooms,  Central  Office “ 

192.  Chas.  Williams  (No.  843) “ V.  G.” 

195.  Police  Parade,  Broadway McDougall  and  Folsom. 

199.  Charley  Ross.  u V.  G.” 

207.  Death  of  the  Abductors McDougall  and  Folsom. 

211.  Inspector  Henry  V.  Steers “ V.  G.” 

213.  Ashore  in  Jersey A.  B.  Shults. 

221.  Adams  Express  Robbery “ 

225.  A.  T.  Stewart’s  House  and  Store McDougall  and  Folsom. 

227.  St.  Mary’s  Church — Stealing  Stewart’s  Re- 
mains  “ 

234.  The  Meeting “ 

240.  Bank  Burglars’ Outfit “ 

248.  Interior  of  Bank  Vault 

255.  Dan  Noble “ V.  G .” 

257.  Fac  Simile  of  a Requisition 

262.  Pete  Emerson,  alias  Banjo  Pete “ 

265.  The  Manhattan  Bank McDougall  and  Folsom 

267.  John  Hope “ V.  G.y 

275.  Billy  Porter “ 

276.  Edward  Gearing,  alias  Eddie  Goodie,  Butch- 

er-cart Thief “ 

’280.  Mother  Mandelbaum “ 

282.  “Big”  Frank  McCoy * “ 

284.  Mandelbaum  Store  and  House.  Geo.  Folsom. 

285.  Michael  Kurtz,  alias  Sheeney  Mike “ V.  G .” 

288.  Geo.  Mason,  alias  Oscar  Decker,  Burglar “ 

290.  “ Marm ’’  Mandelbaum’s  Dinner  Party Valerian  Gribayedoff. 

293.  Wm.  J.  Sharkey “ 

295.  Escape  of  Sharkey H.  E.  Patterson. 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


21 


PAGE 

303.  “ Red  ” Leary 

3ro.  Dr.  Dix’s  Visitors 

342.  Wm.  E.  Brockway 

345.  “ Hungry  Joe’s  ” Poker  Game 

376.  John  Morrissey 

377.  John  Lawrence  Sullivan 

381.  Jimmy  Elliott 

393.  The  Tombs — Exterior 

394.  The  Tombs — Courtyard 

395.  The  Tombs— Interior 

396.  Blackwell’s  Island 

397.  The  “ Black  Maria  ” . . 

400.  John  Walsh.  . 

401.  Capt.  Alex.  S.  Williams,  29th  Precinct. 

403.  Surprised  at  Work 

416.  At  the  Prayer-meeting 

435.  Madam  Restell 

437.  Suicide  of  Madam  Restell 

439.  Dr.  Rosenzweig 

440.  Alice  Augusta  Bowlsby 

450.  Capt.  Anthony  J.  Allaire 

454.  Spencer  Pettis 

457.  “Tip”  Little 

460.  Jimmy  Price 

464.  Theo.  Bishop 

474.  Jim  Brady’s  Jump 

486.  A Bowery  Dive 

490.  Owney  Geogeghan 

493.  French  Ball 

503.  The  Shepherd’s  Flock 

544.  A Brooklyn  Chief 

553.  A Philadelphia  Chief 

559.  A Chief  of  Detectives 


DRAWN  BY 

“ V.  G." 
C.  DeGrimm. 

“ v.  g:’ 

Phil.  G.  Cusacks. 
“ V.  G” 

“V.  G.” 


“ V.  G.” 

ft 

A.  Meyer. 
Phil.  G.  Cusacks. 

“ V.  G.” 
Phil.  G.  Cusacks. 
“ V.  G.” 

ft 

“ V.  G 

ft 

a 

it 

u 

A.  Meyer. 

“ V.  6’.” 
H.  E.  Patterson. 
Phil.  G.  Cusacks' 


t 


RECOLLECTIONS 


OF  A 

NEW  YORK  CHIEF  OF  POLICE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

EARLY  YEARS. — REMOVAL  TO  KEYPORT,  N.  J. — THE  “ CHINGA- 
RORA.” — “THE  LONG,  LOW,  BLACK  SCHOONER.” — A REGULAR 
SCARE. — ON  THE  “ SPENCER.”— THE  MURDER  OF  HELEN  JEW- 
ETT.— THE  COLT  TRAGEDY. — DID  THE  MURDERER  COMMIT 
SUICIDE  ? — THE  PRETTY  CIGAR  GIRL. — EDGAR  A.  POE  AS 
AN  AMATEUR  DETECTIVE. — THE  STADT  HUYS. — BELL  AND 
RATTLE  WATCH. — THE  WHIPPING  POST. — CREMATION  WITH 
A VENGEANCE. — “ LEATHERHEADS.” — WASHINGTON  IRVING’S 
PRACTICAL  JOKE. 

I was  born  on  the  first  of  May,  1823,  in  Middletown  township, 
Monmouth  county,  New  Jersey,  some  two  miles  from  Keyport. 
The  original  Walling  stock  was  Welsh ; a Walling  settled  in  New 
Jersey  at  the  close  of  the  seventeenth  century.  My  grandfather, 
Daniel  Walling,  served  in  the  Revolutionary  army,  and  afterwards 
received  a pension  from  the  United  States.  My  mother’s  maiden 
name  was  Catharine  Aumack ; her  ancestors  came  from  Denmark. 
My  father,  Leonard  Walling,  was  a civil  engineer  and  surveyor  ; he 
kept  a country  store,  and  had  been  a member  of  the  State  Legis- 
lature. 

I was  sent  to  a school  in  the  village,  where  I received  most  of 
my  early  instruction.  My  father,  who  had  ambitious  views  for  me, 
was  desirous  of  preparing  me  for  college  ; to  which,  be  it  said,  I 
never  went.  When  not  at  school  I acted  as  clerk  in  my  father’s 
store.  Sometimes  I would  accompany  him  on  his  frequent  trips  to 

23 


24  “ THE  LONG,  LOW,  BLACK  SCHOONER.” 

New  York,  to  purchase  goods.  The  journey  was  made  on  a sloop 
or  packet,  and  sometimes  took  an  entire  day.  These  excursions 
were  my  delight,  for  I was  an  open-air  boy,  fond  of  athletic  exer- 
cises, proficient  in  rowing,  swimming  and  running,  and  capable  of 
sailing  a boat. 

In  1832,  when  I was  nine  years  old,  my  father  removed  to  Key- 
port  and  opened  a store  there;  but,  to  my  delight,  he  soon  after 
gave  up  store-keeping  and  built  a schooner  of  about  a hundred 
tons,  which  he  named  the  “ Chingarora.”  He  had  taught  him- 
self navigation  and  made  several  trips  on  the  vessel  as  her  master. 
The  schooner  brought  pine  wood  and  oysters  from  Virginia,  and 
naval  stores  from  North  Carolina,  and  carried  back  miscellaneous 
freights  to  Southern  ports.  I made  several  trips  to  Virginia  be- 
fore I was  fourteen  years  old,  and  so  learned  something  about 
sea  life. 

This  “ Chingarora  ” deserves  more  than  passing  mention,  for 
she  wrote  history  to  the  extent  of  a slang  phrase.  Even  now  you 
will  hear  the  expression,  “ long,  low,  black  schooner ; ” fifty  years 
ago  it  was  in  everybody’s  mouth  and  quite  the  vogue.  I will  tell 
you  what  gave  birth  to  it.  Father  was  bound  to  New  York  with  a 
load  of  Virginia  oysters ; a little  off  the  Hook  he  met  the  old  Liver- 
pool liner,  “ Susquehanna,”  outward  bound.  The  captain  hailed 
father  and  asked  him  what  he  had  to  sell.  “ Virginia  oysters,”  he 
replied,  and  forthwith  went  aboard  and  made  a sale.  It  was  dusk, 
and  some  inward-bound  vessels  sighted  father’s  boat  alongside 
the  packet.  The  “ Chingarora  ” was  painted  black,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  a narrow  red  streak  below  the  bulwarks.  She  had  no 
cabin  windows  and  her  masts  were  tall  and  rakish.  The  next  day 
the  news  was  reported  that  a pirate  had  boarded  a large  ship  off 
Sandy  Hook ; newspapers  printed  columns  about  the  mysterious 
“ long,  low,  black  schooner,”  and  accounts  of  the  ferocious  pirate 
went  broadcast  over  the  country,  while  official  reports  were  fur- 
nished to  all  the  ports.  Meanwhile,  of  course,  the  “ Susquehanna  ” 
went  silently  to  sea. 

Father  came  up  innocently  to  New  York,  sold  his  oysters,  loaded 
up  again  and  proceeded  peacefully  to  Baltimore,  where  he  was  im- 
mediately taken  into  custody  as  a bold  buccaneer.  Of  course  his 
papers  were  in  order  and  his  identity  was  easily  established.  The 
scare  about  pirates  went  out  in  a roar  of  laughter  and  “ long,  low, 
black  schooner  ” became  the  fashion  in  speech. 


HELEN  JEWETT. 


Poor  old  “ Chingarora.”  We  had  to  sell  her  when  my  good 
father  ended  his  sturdy  life,  but  the  sea  knowledge  I gained  on 
her  stood  me  in  good  stead.  I adopted  the  sea  as  my  profession, 
and  worked  on  several  of  the  steam-boats  then  plying  up  the  North 
River  and  the  Sound.  I was  one  of  the  hands  on  the  old  “ Colum- 
bus ” and  the  “ Neptune  ” of  those  days. 

In  1845  I went  on  the  revenue  steamer  “ Spencer  ” and  re- 
mained with  her  a few  months.  I remember  a great  fire  in  New 
York  in  1845,  at  which  the  crew  of  the  “ Spencer,”  and  a squad  of 
marines  from  the  Brooklyn  navy-yard  assisted  as  guardians  of 
property.  This  was  really  my  first  service  as  a keeper  of  the 
peace. 

Growing  tired  of  marine  life,  I left  the  “ Spencer  ” and  took  up 
my  residence  in  New  York.  I went  into  business,  and  sold  mar- 
ket produce  brought  to  Washington  Market  by  the  river  craft. 
In  spring,  summer  and  fall  I was  kept  busy,  but  during  the  winter 
months  I had  but  little  to  do. 

I had  not  thought  of  police  work  then, 
but  recollect  all  the  great  crimes  that 
startled  the  country,  and  particularly  one 
of  the  most  remarkable  and  atrocious 
which  had  been  committed.  This  was 
the  murder  of  the  notorious  courtesan, 

Helen  Jewett,  by,  as  was  alleged,  her 
quondam  lover,  Richard  P.  Robinson,  on 
the  night  of  April  n,  1836.  Helen, 
whose  real  name  was  Dorcas  Doyan, 
was  but  twenty-three  years  old.  She 
possessed  rare  beauty  of  person  and  in- 
telligence. The  story  of  her  career  need  not  be  repeated  here.  It 
may  be  simply  related  that  Robinson  remained  her  lover  for  a con- 
siderable time,  and,  eventually,  upon  her  solicitation,  agreed  to 
go  through  the  form  of  a marriage.  At  the  time  of  her  murder, 
Helen  was  an  inmate  of  Mrs.  Townsend’s  house  on  Thomas 
Street,  and  there,  on  the  night  of  April  n,  1836,  she  was  visited 
by  Robinson.  After  that  she  was  never  seen  alive. 

At  about  three  o’clock  the  next  morning,  when  Mrs.  Townsend 
entered  the  room,  she  was  met  by  a dense  volume  of  smoke  which 
almost  overpowered  her.  The  chamber  was  on  fire,  and  there,  on 
the  floor,  lay  the  body  of  the  ill  fated  Helen,  her  transparent  fore- 


HELEN  JEWETT. 
(From  a Photograph.) 


20 


THE  COLT  TRAGEDY. 


head  half  divided  by  a gaping  wound,  and  her  body  half  consumed 

by  fire.  Robinson  was  arrested  a few 
hours  later,  but  was  acquitted  of  the 
charge  of  murder.  There  is  almost  con- 
clusive evidence  that  he  escaped  the 
gallows  through  the  bribery  of  one  of 
the  jurors. 

Another  fearful  tragedy,  which  oc- 
curred on  September  17,  1841,  was  the 
horrible  murder  of  Samuel  Adams,  a 
printer,  by  John  C.  Colt,  book-keeper 
and  teacher  of  ornamental  penmanship, 
richard  p.  robinson,  m an  office  at  the  corner  of  Broadway 
(From  a Photograph.)  and  Chambers  Street.  After  braining 
Adams  with  a hatchet,  Colt  cut  up  the  body  and  salted  it  down 
in  a box.  He  then  had  it  conveyed  by  a teamster  to  a ves- 
sel bound  for  New  Orleans,  lying  at  the  foot  of  Maiden  Lane. 
This  vessel  was  to  have  departed  immediately,  but  she  was 
delayed  a week.  A horrible  stench  came  from  the  hold,  and 
the  order  was  given  by  the  captain  to  “break  cargo.”  The 
result  was  the  discovery  of  the  box  containing  all  that  remained 
of  Adams.  Colt  was  arrested,  and  shortly  afterwards  confessed 
his  crime,  stating,  however,  that  there  had  been  a fight  between 
him  and  his  victim.  He  was  sentenced  to  be  hanged,  but  com- 
mitted suicide  by  stabbing  himself  to  the  heart  with  a knife.  This 
has  been  generally  accepted  as  true  by  the  public,  but  I have 
heard  it  declared  over  and  over  again,  by  those  in  a position  to 
know,  that  Colt  did  not  commit  suicide ; that  the  body  found  in 
his  cell  when  the  Tombs  caught  fire  was  only  a corpse  prepared  for 
the  purpose,  and  that  he  escaped  in  the  confusion.  The  coroner, 
it  is  said,  was  aware  of  the  deception,  and  the  jurymen  were  se- 
lected for  their  ignorance  of  Colt’s  personal  appearance.  Persons 
who  knew  Colt  well  are  positive  they  have  seen  him  since  the 
time  of  his  alleged  suicide  in  both  California  and  Texas. 

The  mysterious  murder  of  Mary  Rogers,  the  “ pretty  cigar  girl,” 
occurred  in  1842.  For  some  years  previously  Mary  was  employed 
to  sell  cigars  in  the  store  of  John  Anderson,  the  famous  snuff  man- 
ufacturer. She  was  a very  handsome  girl,  and  her  fame  extended 
far  and  wide  among  the  swells  of  that  period,  who  were  constant 
customers  at  the  store.  In  the  early  part  of  1842  she  relinquished 


THE  PRETTY  CIGAR  GIRL. 


27 


her  position  in  the  cigar  store,  and  henceforward  assisted  her 
mother,  who  kept  a boarding-house  at  No.  126  Nassau  Street. 
One  Sunday  in  July,  1842,  Mary  left  her  home,  telling  Daniel 
Payn,  a young  man  to  whom  she  was  to  be  married,  that  she  was 
going  to  church,  and  that  if  she  were  not  home  to  supper  he  was 
to  call  at  a female  friend’s  house  for  her.  There  was  a heavy 
thunder  storm  that  evening,  and  Payn,  thinking  his  betrothed  would 
stay  over  night  with  her  friend,  did  not  call  for  her.  He  never  saw 


her  again  in  this  world.  The  next  morning  her  body  was  found 
floating  in  the  water  near  what  was  then  known  as  the  “ Sybil’s 
Cave,”  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Elysian  Fields,  on  the  Jersey  side  of 
the  Hudson.  It  bore  the  marks  of  the  most  horrible  and  name- 
less maltreatment.  Subsequently,  some  ^ articles  of  wearing  ap- 
parel, which  were  recognized  as  having  belonged  to  the  murdered 
girl,  were  found  in  a thicket  of  the  Elysian  Fields,  where  the  crime 
was  undoubtedly  committed,  the  body  being  afterwards  thrown  into 
the  water.  Several  persons  were  arrested  on  suspicion  of  having 
committed  the  crime,  including  a rejected  suitor  for  the  victim’s 
hand,  but  no  evidence  was  forthcoming,  and  the  suspected  persons 
were  all  discharged. 


EDGAR  A.  POE’S  THEORY. 


2S 


The  excitement  following  the  murder  of  Mary  Rogers  was  con- 
spicuously felt  by  the  prominent  New  Yorkers  of  the  day.  Such 
men  as  Gen.  James  Watson  Webb,  Gen.  Scott,  M.  M.  Noah, 
James  Gordon  Bennett,  Fenimore  Cooper,  Washington  Irving,  N. 
P.  Willis  and  Edgar  A.  Poe,  were  acquainted  with  the  dainty  figure 
and  pretty  face  where  they  bought  their  cigars.  Edgar  A.  Poe 
possessed,  or  thought  he  possessed,  high  ability  as  a detective  ; 
and  his  ingenuity  in  this  ghastly  groping  is  shown  in  “ The  Gold 


MARY  ROGERS’  RESTING-PLACE. 


Bug,”  “ Murder  on  the  Rue  Morgue,”  and  “ The  Mystery  of 
Marie  Roget.” 

In  the  latter  story  he  endeavors  to  account  for  the  disappear- 
ance of  the  pretty  cigar  girl.  He  slightly  disguises  her  name,  sub- 
stitutes the  Rue  Morgue  for  Broadway,  the  Seine  for  the  Hudson, 
the  Bois  de  Boulogne  for  the  Hackensack  Wood,  etc.  He  follows 
all  her  acquaintances,  analyzes  their  characters,  and  examines 
their  relation  to  her,  coming  to  the  conclusion  that  a well-known 
officer  in  the  United  States  Navy  was  her  murderer.  The  best 


YE  OLDEN  TIMES. 


29 


authorities  of  that  time  do  not  agree  with  Poe’s  finding,  but  the 
tragic  romance  is  full  of  painful  interest. 

But  leaving  these  records  of  crime  for  a time  to  deal  directly 
with  the  ancient  police  force  of  the  city,  which  exerted  itself  to 
detect  criminals,  I will  write  of  the  old  watchmen  who  found  their 
headquarters  in  the  City  Hall. 

The  first  of  these  buildings  of  which  New  York  could  boast  was 
built  in  1642,  on  Pearl  Street,  close  to  the  Battery.  It  was  called 
the  “ Stadt  Huys,”  and  was  five  years  old  when  old  Peter  Stuy- 
vesant,  with  his  wooden  leg,  took  his  seat  in  the  governor’s  chair, 
and  commenced  his  vigorous  crusade  against  the  liquor  saloons  in 
the  interests  of  temperance.  Nine  years  later,  the  first  police 
force  was  organized.  It  was  called  “ the  rattle  watch,”  and  con- 
sisted of  just  half  a dozen  men.  They  marched  about  the  streets 
at  night,  sounding  the  rattles  with  which  they  were  equipped,  and 
yelling  : “ By  the  grace  of  God,  two  o’clock  in  peace  ! ” 

The  records  show  that  boys  in  those  days  were  as  noisy  and 
mischievous  as  they  are  now,  for  we  are  gravely  told  that  “ two 
boys  were  arrested  for  shouting  after  Indians  in  Pearl  Street.” 
And  Pearl  Street,  by  the  way,  is  one  of  the  few  city  thoroughfares 
which  has  held  its  name  from  the  very  first. 

Street  lighting  came  into  fashion  some  ten  or  fifteen  years  later, 
an  ordinance  being  passed  commanding  that  “ every  seventh  house 
in  all  the  streets  shall,  in  the  dark  of  the  moon,  cause  a lantern 
and  candle  to  be  hung  out  on  a pole,  the  charge  to  be  defrayed 
equally  by  the  inhabitants  of  the  said  seven  houses.”  In  1673  a 
decree  was  promulgated  looking  to  the  banishment  of  the  droves  of 
hogs  with  which  the  streets  were  infested.  The  reason  given  for 
this  decree  was  “ because  the  hogs  which  are  kept  within  this  city 
in  multitudes  have  from  time  to  time  committed  great  damage  to 
the  fortifications.” 

Twenty  years  later,  the  first  uniformed  policeman  of  the  city 
appeared  in  its  streets.  He  was  armed  with  a bell  and  a long 
and  formidable  looking  axe.  Plis  uniform  was  “a  coat  of  ye 
citty  livery,  with  a badge  of  ye  citty  armes,  shoes  and  stockings.” 
The  cost  of  all  this  paraphernalia  was  charged  “ to  ye  account 
of  ye  citty.”  For  the  punishment  of  offenders  there  were  erected 
on  the  wharf  at  Whitehall,  a gallows,  a pillory,  a cage,  whipping- 
post and  ducking-stool.  The  mayor  in  person  was  the  public  ad- 
ministrator of  all  forms  of  punishment. 


3° 


BARBAROUS  PUNISHMENTS. 


A new  City  Hall  was  built  in  1700,  its  site  being  where  the 
Sub-Treasury  now  stands,  on  Wall  Street,  near  the  . corner  of 
Nassau,  then  commonly  spoken  of  as  “the  road  that  runs  by  the 
pie-woman’s.”  What  is  now  the  City  Hall  Park,  with  its  foun- 
tain, neat  walks  and  well  kept  green  sward,  was  known  as  the 
Common  in  those  days.  Here  it  was  that  those  persons  con- 
victed of  heinous  crimes  were  burnt  alive  ! Ah,  those  were  “ good 
old  days,”  were  they  not ! Why,  even  as  late  as  1712,  a poor 
old  slave,  known  as  “ Tom,”  suffered  this  awful  penalty.  He 


belonged  to  Nicholas  Roosevelt,  and  the  sentence  passed  upon 
him  read  this  wise  : “ That  you  be  carryed  from  hence  to  the  place 

whence  you  came,  and  from  thence  to  the  place  of  execution  ; and 
there  be  burned  with  a slow  fire,  that  you  may  continue  in  tor- 
ment for  eight  or  ten  hours,  and  continue  burning  in  the  said  fire 
until  you  be  dead  and  consumed  to  ashes.”  In  these  days  such 
punishment  would  be  deemed  barbarous,  inhuman,  or  worse  ; yet 
the  majority  of  people  who  were  then  living  were  loud-professing, 
earnest  and  fervent  Christians.  New  York  was  very  religious 


THE  ANCIENT  POLICE. 


3' 


then,  far  more  so  than  it  has  ever  been  since,  with  all  her 
costly  churches  and  wide-spreading  missionary  efforts.  For  twenty 
years  the  whipping-post  stood  on  Broad  Street,  and  its  site  is  at 
present  flanked  by  D.  O.  Mills’  colossal  building,  where  the  great 
banking  house  of  Henry  Clews  & Co.  is  now  located.  Down 
through  this  thoroughfare  ran  a canal,  crossed  by  bridges.  Wall 
Street  was  the  northern  boundary  of  the  city,  and  along  it,  divid- 
ing it  from  the  country  beyond,  was  a high  wall. 

But  about  the  whipping-post.  Why,  one  of  the  newspapers  of 
that  time  disposes  of  a case  of  whipping  in  this  manner,  as  if  it 


THE  PILLORY  AND  WHIPPING-POST. 


were  quite  a common  occurrence  : “ A woman  was  whipped  at 

the  whipping-post  on  the  3d,  and  afforded  much  amusement  to 
the  spectators  by  her  resistance.”  The  pillory  was  not  idle, 
either,  for  “James  Gain,  pursuant  to  sentence,  stood  in  the  pil- 
lory near  the  City  Hall,  and  was  most  severely  pelted  by  great 
numbers  of  spectators  ; a lad  was  also  branded  in  the  hand.” 

The  old  night-watchmen  of  the  city  were  required  to  announce 
not  only  the  hour,  but  the  state  of  the  weather  at  the  time,  ring- 
ing their  bell  and  chanting  lustily  something  like  this  : “ Past  four 


32 


WASHINGTON  IRVING’SV  ESCAPADES. 


o’clock,  and  a dark  and  cloudy  morning.”  The  highest  wages 
paid  to  policemen  in  New  York,  up  to  the  close  of  the  Revolu- 
tionary war,  was  $5.25  a week. 

During  the  first  half  of  the  present  century  the  police  were 
known  as  “ Leathtfrheads,”  a nickname  which  arose  from  the  fact 
that  they  wore  leather  hats,  something  like  an  old-fashioned  fire- 
man’s helmet,  with  a broad  brim  behind.  Twice  a year  these 
hats  received  a thick  coat  of  varnish,  and  after  a time  they  be- 
came almost  as  hard  and  heavy  as  iron.  These  old  “ Leather- 
heads  ” were  subject  to  very  little  discipline,  and  were  anything 
but  imposing  or  athletic.  Should  one  attempt  to  make  an  arrest, 
he  was  either  very  roughly  handled,  or  led  a long  and  fruitless 
chase,  in  the  course  of  which  he  was  sure  to  meet  with  many  and 
ludicrous  mishaps.  He  was,  in  fact,  unable  to  protect  himself, 
let  alone  guarding  and  protecting  citizens  and  property.  The 
young  bloods  of  those  days  took  liberties  with  this  official  which 
no  youth  of  our  time,  if  he  valued  his  head  and  health,  would  dare 
take  with  “ One  of  the  Finest.”  Youthful  and  exuberant  New 
Yorkers  considered  that  an  evening  out  was  not  spent  in  the  ortho- 
dox manner  unless  they  played  some  rough  practical  jokes  on  the 
poor,  old,  inoffensive  “ Leatherheads.”  It  is  recorded  of  such  a 
staid  young  man  as  Washington  Irving,  even',  that  he  was  in  the 
habit  of  upsetting  watch-boxes  if  he  caught  a “ Leatherhead  ” asleep 
inside  ; and  on  one  occasion,  so  it  is  said,  he  lassoed  the  box  with 
a stout  rope,  and  with  the  aid  of  companions  dragged  it  down 
Broadway,  while  the  watchman  inside  yelled  loudly  for  help. 
The  only  insignia  of  office  which  these  old  fellows  had,  besides  the 
leather  helmet,  was  a big  cloak  and  a club ; at  night  they  also 
carried  a lantern. 


CHAPTER  II. 


I BECOME  A POLICEMAN. “ BUTTER-CAKE  DICK.” “ YOU  MUST  NEVER 

DO  THAT  AGAIN.” THE  “ BUTTON  ” CASE. A SHARP  PIECE  OF  DE- 
TECTIVE WORK. HOW  I SAVED  TOM  HYER  FROM  YANKEE  SUL- 

LIVAN’S  GANG. — “ THE  ’FORTY-NINERS.” 

One  day,  late  in  1847,  I was  hunting  quail  in  New  Jersey,  when 
a friend  accosted  me  and  asked  whether  I would  like  to  take  his 
position  on  the  New  York  police  force.  He  was  about  to.  resign, 
and  the  alderman  and  assistant-alderman  of  his  ward  had  given 
him  the  privilege  of  naming  his  successor; 

In  those  days  aldermen  and  assistant-aldermen  nominated, 
subject  to  the  mayor’s  approval,  which  was  rarely  refused.  The 
term  of  service  of  each  appointee  was  two  years. 

I certainly  never  had  the  slightest  idea  of  becoming  a police- 
man, but  the  proposition  did  not  displease  me.  I had  no  particu- 
lar business  at  the  time  and  decided  that  I might  as  well  carry  a 
club  till  something  better  turned  up.  I accepted  my  friend’s  offer. 
Little  did  I think  then  that  I was  to  pass  my  life  on  police  duty. 

My  friend  sent  in  his  resignation  and  I was  nominated  by 
Alderman  Egbert  Benson  and  Assistant- Alderman  Thomas 
McElrath,  the  latter  well  known  as  one  of  the  original  proprie- 
tors of  the  Tribune , with  the  illustrious  Horace  Greeley.  The 
mayor,  Mr.  Wm.  V.  Brady,  approved  and  swore  me  in  on  the 
twenty-second  day  of  December,  1847. 

My  debut  was  made  as  one  of  the  force  of  the  Third  Ward.  I 
received  no  special  instructions  as  to  what  were  to  be  my  duties, 
but  was  ordered  to  report  to  Captain  Tobias  Boudinot,  who  was 
then  in  charge  of  the  Third  Ward  station,  situated  on  Robinson 
Street,  west  of  College  Place.  The  station  was  a small  frame 
building,  with  a stoop  ; there  was  a door  below  opening  into  the 
basement,  where  the  cells  were. 

It  is  amusing  to  me  to  recall  the  ease  with  which  my  appoint- 
ment was  secured.  The  men  at  that  time  owed  their  appoint- 
ments entirely  to  political  preferences-;  there  were  no  surgeons’ 
3 33 


34  “ BUTTER-CAKE  DICK.” 

inspections,  nor  any  civil-service  examinations,  in  fact  no  atten- 
tion whatever  was  paid  to  the  physique  or  mental  acquirements  of 
the  applicant.  The  salary  was  $600  a year,  the  pay  days  were 
twice  a month.  The  sergeants  then,  the  roundsmen  of  to-day, 
visited  the  various  posts  to  see  that  the  men  were  on  duty. 

The  merely  physical  work,  to  a young  man  like  myself,  accus- 
tomed to  walk  all  day  with  a gun  on  my  shoulders,  shooting  birds 
in  the  Jersey  fields,  was  not  at  all  onerous.  As  far  as  covering  my 
post  went,  I had  no  trouble  about  that ; nor  did  an  exact  obedience 
to  the  rules  present  much  difficulty.  But  I must  confess  that  once 
I fell  from  grace. 

Just  at  the  beginning  of  my  official  career  there  came  a fiitterly 
cold  night.  I had  been  on  post  for  a number  of  hours,  and  if  there 
was  anything  on  this  earth  that  I yearned  for  it  was  a cup  of  hot 
coffee.  Now,  in  those  days  one  Richard  Marshall,  better  known 
as  “ Butter-cake  Dick,”  kept  a coffee-and-cake  saloon  under  the 
then  Tribmie  building.  I could  look  from  my  post  across  the 
Park  and  see  the  genial  light  of  this  haven  of  refuge,  the  windows 
deliciously  frosted  with  congealed  coffee-steam.  O,  how  I wanted 
coffee ! 

Well,  I was  young,  and  I found  my  feet  instinctively  crossing 
the  Park  and  irresistibly  carrying  me  to  “ something  hot.”  I en- 
tered the  shop,  and  to  my  amazement  it  was  filled  with  policemen  ! 
“ Butter-cake  Dick  ” himself,  as  if  it  were  the  most  natural  thing 
in  the  world,  brought  me  refreshments,  and,  speechless,  I swal- 
lowed my  coffee  as  quickly  as  I could,  gobbled  my  butter-cakes 
and  flew  back  to  my  post.  But,  to  my  horror,  Nemesis,  in  the 
rotund  person  of  Sergeant  Hervey,  was  there,  and  apparently 
looking  for  me. 

“ Where  have  you  been,  sir  ? ” said  he. 

'“To  ‘Butter-cake  Dick’s,5  sir,”  I replied,  quaking. 

“ You  must  never  do  that  again,”  said  he,  very  sharply. 

But  he  was  a kind-hearted  sergeant,  and  I suppose  he  saw  my 
dismay,  for  he  went  on  to  say  that  in  very  severe  weather,  if  I 
were  very  cold,  and  if  coffee  was  very  necessary,  I could  wait  till  I 
saw  him,  ask  his  permission,  and  he  would  patrol  my  post  till  I 
returned.  He  wound  up  by  telling  me  that  as  I was  a new  hand 
he  would  not  report  me  for  this  first  offence,  but  if  it  ever  happened 
again  he  would  have  to  send  my  name  up. 

It  never  did ! 


THE  “ BUTTON  ” CASE. 


35 


But  I could  not  help  wondering  how  the  other  policemen  I had 
seen  in  the  coffee-shop  managed  it.  And  here,  at  this  late  day,  I 
am  informing  on  them. 

In  1848,  when  Mr.  George  W.  Matsell  was  chief  of  police,  com- 
plaints were  frequently  made  to  him  of  Sunday  robberies  among 
the  wholesale  and  retail  houses  about  Maiden  Lane  and  John 
Street.  These  depredations  were  sources  of  as  great  annoyance 
to  Mr.  Matsell  as  to  the  members  of  the  force.  One  morning  the 
chief  of  police  sent  for  Theodore  Shadbolt,  John  Reed,  John  Wade 
and  me,  and  said  : “ Boys,  I have  sent  for  you  to  help  me.  Every 
Monday  morning  when  I come  down  to  the  office  I have  complaints 
of  burglaries  committed  in  Maiden  Lane  or  John  Street,  and  if 
you  do  not  catch  the  thieves  I shall  have  to  jump  off  the  dock.” 

Of  course  we  all  looked  exceedingly  vigilant  and  wide  awake, 
but  we  had  to  wait  further  developments. 

One  Monday  morning  Mr.  Matsell  sent  for  us.  The  chief  was 
not  in  a good  humor.  There  had  been  enough  to  ruffle  him.  He 
began  at  us  at  once  with : “ There  has  been  another  burglary  in 
Maiden  Lane.  I want  you  to  go  there  and  investigate,  and  see 
what  you  can  do  ! T’ 

Accompanied  by  Reed  and  Shadbolt,  I went  at  once  to  the 
store  in  Maiden  Lane  and  made  a thorough  examination.  We 
found  that  the  burglars  had  entered  the  store  by  breaking 
through  a small  window  opening  on  an  alley.  The  thieves  had 
stolen  some  very  choice  cutlery  and  costly  suspenders.  In  count- 
ing the  stock,  about  the  exact  quantity  of  cutlery  was  deter- 
mined ; and  upon  examining  the  loss  of  suspenders,  three  pairs 
were  found  missing.  It  was  a fair  suspicion  that  three  burglars 
had  been  at  work,  and  that  each  man  had  helped  himself  to  a pair 
of  suspenders.  Examining  every  nook  and  corner  of  the  place, 
we  found  a number  of  bits  of  newspaper,  and  in  sorting  them  out 
carefully,  we  came  across  a single  button.  This  button  would  be 
now  classed  as  an  ordinary  one,  but  thirty  odd  years  ago  it  was  a 
button  not  in  common  use.  Sack  coats  had  just  then  come  into 
fashion  and  were  novelties. 

This  button  was  covered  with  the  same  material  as  the  cloth  of 
the  coat.  The  button  had  been,  therefore,  part  and  parcel  of  one 
of  these  new-fashioned  garments.  The  question  arose  whether  any 
one  in  the  store  wore  a sack  coat,  or  had  lost  a button  ? The 
clerks  were  brought  before  us,  of  course  not  aware  why  their 


3^ 


AT  THE  THEATRE. 


clothes  were  examined  so  particularly ; but  none  of  them  wore  a 
sack.  How,  then,  did  the  button  come  there  ? It  did  not  look  as 
if  it  had  been  pulled  olf  suddenly.  I came  to  the  conclusion 
that  the  owner  of  the  button,  when  it  became  loose,  had  put  it  in 
his  pocket,  intending  to  have  it  sewed  on  again.  When  he  was 
filling  his  pockets  with  the  cutlery,  to  make  room  for  the  fine 
knives,  he  had  turned  out  the  paper  in  his  pocket  with  the  other 
contents,  and  the  button  had  fallen  on  the  floor.  A button  was  a 
very  insignificant  clue,  but  it  was  all  we  had.  We  returned  to  Mr. 
Matsell  and  reported  our  investigation.  We  said  there  were  three 
burglars,  and  one  of  them  had  lost  a button.  I do  not  know 
whether  the  chief  of  police  was  very  well  satisfied.  We  held  a 
consultation  with  the  officers  of  the  force.  We  were  all  of  the 
opinion  that  we  must  find  a man  wearing  a sack  coat,  minus  a 
button  or  buttons  which  would  match  the  one  in  our  possession. 
We  all  studied,  very  carefully,  the  configuration  of  that  little  disc, 
and,  if  I may  so  express  it,  got  it  by  heart. 

We  now  visited  all  the  places  wherein  we  fancied  thieves 
would  congregate,  but  no  buttonless  rascals  were  visible.  We  be- 
gan to  be-  quite  despondent ; but  nevertheless,  that  button  kept 
passing  around. 

About  a month  and  a half  had  elapsed,  when,  one  very  cold 
night,  I was  on  duty  at  the  old  Chatham  Street  Theatre,  just 
above  Pearl  Street.  Officer  Shadbolt  came  to  me  and  said  : 

“ There  are  three  young  men  going  up  stairs.  I know  them  to 
be  thieves.  I will  give  you  the  cue  so  that  you  can  distinguish 
them,  and  then  you  watch  them.  As  the  men  know  me  by  sight, 
I mustn’t  show.” 

“All  right,  Mr.  Shadbolt,”  I replied,  “I  will  keep  my  eye  on 
them.” 

Presently  three  men  came  up  to  one  of  the  upper  galleries. 
Shadbolt  signalled  to  me,  and  I knew  my  men.  I took  a theatre 
bill,  and  was  apparently  very  much  interested  in  the  performance. 
Being  in  plain  clothing,  I took  a seat  directly  behind  the  men. 
Always  having  that  button  on  the  brain,  the  first  thing  I did  was 
to  scan  their  coats.  There  was  not  a button  wanting.  I scruti- 
nized the  make  of  all  their  buttons.  Could  I believe  my  eyes? 
Yes  1 one  of  them  displayed  buttons  precisely  like  the  one  we  had 
treasured.  More  than  that,  this  same  man  with  the  suspicious 
buttons  had  one  button  on  his  coat  of  a slightly  different  pattern. 


ON  THE  TRACK. 


37 


There  was  no  doubt  about  the  matter  ; we  had  the  thief,  perhaps 
the  thieves.  I hurried  down  the  stairs  of  the  theatre  at  once, 
and  saw  Shadbolt.  “ Those  are  the  fellows  we  are  looking  for,” 
I said.  “ We  will  watch  them.  As  they  will  come  out  with  the 
crowd,  we  might  lose  them.  You  keep  in  the  shade,  somewhere 
in  the  house,  and  follow  them  out.  I will  go  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  street.  When  you  are  on  their  track,  lift  your  hat,  and  then 
I will  take  the  trail  and  follow  them.  When  you  see  me  in  their 
wake,  station  yourself  in  front  of  the  Bowery  Theatre  and  do  not 


OLD  BOWERY  THEATRE. 


leave  it  until  you  hear  from  me.  Then  perhaps  Mr.  Matsell  will 
not  jump  off  the  dock.” 

Shadbolt  agreed  to  the  plan,  and  at  midnight,  when  the  theatre 
was  closed,  I was  on  the  tracks  following  the  three  men. 

They  went  into  an  eating-house  in  Chatham  Street,  and  had 
some  supper ; came  out,  and  then  went  on  their  way  to  the  east 
side  of  the  street.  The  house  they  went  into  had  a light  in  the 
door-way.  I waited  for  a long  time,  and  made  up  my  mind  that 
the  men  had  gone  to  bed.  The  house  was  probably  a lodging- 
place.  It  was  bitterly  cold,  and  I had  hidden  myself  in  a door- 


38 


GET  UP  ! THE  COPS.” 


way  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street.  After  having  run  the 
men  to  earth,  it  would  never  have  done  to  lose  them.  I must 
not  leave  my  place  of  observation. 

At  about  half-past  two  o’clock  in  the  morning  I saw  a man  come 
along.  I slipped  out  of  the  door-way.  The  man  was  apparently 
alarmed  and  started  across  the  street.  I halted  him  and  as- 
sured him  that  there  was  no  cause  for  fear.  “ Do  not  be  fright- 
ened,” I said,  “ I am  an  officer.”  I took  out  my  star  and  showed  it 
to  him.  I asked  him  in  what  direction  he  was  going.  It  so  hap- 
pened that  on  his  way  to  his  house  he  would  have  to  pass  the 
Bower}T  Theatre.  I begged  him  to  notify  the  officer  he  would  find 
in  front  of  the  theatre  where  I was  and  to  come  to  me  at  once- 

The  man  left.  After  a while  down  came  Mr.  Shadbolt.  I 
quickly  explained  to  him  the  condition  of  affairs,  and  told  him  that 
the  men  were  in  the  house  opposite  and  asleep.  I begged  him  to 
go  at  once  to  the  Tenth  Ward  police  station  and  to  send  Reed 
and  Wade  to  meet  me  where  I then  was,  at  five  o’clock  in  the 
morning. 

Promptly  on  time,  Reed  and  Wade  were  there.  We  went  to  the 
house,  knocked  and  were  admitted  by  the  man  in  charge.  I told 
him : “ You  have  three  men  in  bed  in  this  house,  and  we  want 
them.”  I advised  him  what  to  do,  so  that  we  might  get  into  the 
room  where  they  were,  in  order  that  we  could  catch  them  all  at  once. 

It  was  arranged  that  the  lodging-house  keeper  should  tell  them  to 
open  their  door  so  that  he  could  get  their  candle.  The  man  went 
to  the  room,  knocked,  awoke  the  sleepers  and  the  door  was 
opened.  No  sooner  was  the  door  ajar  than  I went  in,  followed 
by  Reed  and  Wade.  I put  my  foot  in  the  door  so  that  it  could 
not  be  closed.  It  looked  as  if  our  visit  was  no  surprise,  for  one  of 
the  men  said  to  the  others,  “ Get  up — the  4 cops  ’ are  here  for  us.” 
The  men  made  no  resistance  and  were  taken  to  Mr.  Matsell’s 
office  and  locked  up  in  the  cells.  In  searching  them  we  found 
that  every  man  of  them  had  on  a pair  of  suspenders  of  the  best 
quality.  We  sent  at  once  to  the  house  in  Maiden  Lane,  reporting 
the  finding  of  the  suspenders. 

The  Maiden  Lane  merchant  examined  the  suspenders,  and  de- 
clared that  they  were  exactly  like  those  which  had  been  stolen,  but 
unfortunately  he  had  sold  a great  many  and  could  not  of  course 
swear  that  these  were  the  stolen  ones.  Here  then  came  the 
chance  that,  after  all  our  trouble,  nothing  could  be  proved  against 


A COMEDY  OP  ERRORS.  39 

the  men.  The  button  was  good  for  nothing  in  court ; other  evi- 
dence against  the  thieves  was  necessary. 

I thought  the  problem  out,  and  made  up  my  mind  that  Shadbolt, 
because  he  knew  the  thieves,  would  be  of  use  to  us..  It  should  be 
remembered  that,  so  far,  the  three  men  had  no  knowledge  that 
Shadbolt  had  had  anything  to  do  with  this  arrest.  A little  comedy 
was  agreed  upon  by  Mr.  Matsell,  Shadbolt  and  myself,  and  the 
play  was  managed  in  this  way : 

I took  the  three  men  before  Mr.  Matsell,  and  they  were  left 
with  him  for  a little  while.  Then  Mr.  Shadbolt  came  in  and 
asked  Mr.  Matsell  for  permission  to  leave  the  city.  Mr.  Matsell 
was  to  be  apparently  very  much  engaged,  so  as  not  to  pay  immedi- 
ate attention  to  Shadbolt’s  request.  Seeing  the  three  men,  Shad- 
bolt expressed  surprise,  and  inquired  : “ What  are  you  doing  here  ? ” 

Then  I came  in,  apparently  in  a towering  rage.  “What!” 
I cried,  “ Mr.  Matsell,  is  this  the  way  business  is  carried  on  in  this 
office,  sir  ? When  I have  prisoners,  can  another  officer  come  in  and 
talk  to  them  ? This  is  an  injustice  which  I will  not  permit.” 

Then  Mr.  Matsell  turned  on  Shadbolt,  and  said  Mr.  Shadbolt, 
this  is  contrary  to  every  rule.  You  have  no  right  to  talk  to  these 
prisoners.  If  ever  anything  of  this  kind  occurs  again  I shall  bring 
charges  against  you.” 

I turned  quickly  on  Shadbolt,  and  told  him  he  had  no  business 
at  all  in  the  office.  I ended  by  insisting  “ that  his  room  was  better 
than  his  company.”  Then  I took  the  prisoners  and  put  them  in  a 
passage-way  and  left  them  again,  apparently,  for  a moment.  Shad- 
bolt then  returned  to  where  they  were.  One  of  the  men  called 
him  to  them. 

Shadbolt  looked  around  with  suspicion,  and  said Is  Walling 
gone  ? ” The  men  replied,  “ Yes.”  Shadbolt  said  : “ I can  talk 
with  you  for  a minute.  Talk  quickly,  however,  for  it  is  more 
than  my  place  is  worth  for  me  to  be  seen  talking  with  you. 
What  are  you  here  for,  anyhow  ? ” 

The  men  said  they  did  not  know.  Shadbolt  told  them  that  he 
would  find  out.  Then  Shadbolt  went  away,  came  back  after  a 
while  and  informed  them  that  it  was  in  regard  to  stealing  sus- 
penders and  cutlery,  and  that  they  had  better  confess  their  guilt, 
and  get  off  with  a short  imprisonment.  This  they  consented  to  do. 
They  confessed  the  theft.  Then  Shadbolt  advised  them  to  tell  Mr. 
Matsell  what  they  had  done  with  the  property.  I was  given  charge 


40 


TOM  HYER  AND  YANKEE  SULLIVAN. 


of  the  men  and  took  them  before  Mr.  Matsell.  The  men  informed 
us  that  they  had  sold  their  goods  to  a man  in  Centre  Street. 

Mr.  Matsell  despatched  me  to  Centre  Street  at  once.  I said  to 
the  man  : “You  have  been  buying  goods  from  three  thieves.  We 
have  got  the  men  fast.  Now  you  had  better  tell  me  where  the 
cutlery  and  other  things  are.”  The  man  positively  denied  that  he 
had  bought  any  stolen  goods.  “ Then,”  I said,  “ I will  search  the 
place,”  and  I did  so. 

In  one  corner  of  the  room,  stowed  away  behind  some  boxes,  I 
found  the  cutlery.  No  sooner  had  I put  my  hands  on  the  knives 
than  I said  : “ Here  is  evidence  enough  to  send  you  to  the  State 
prison.” 

I sent  for  a truck  and  carried  to  Mr.  Matsell’s  office  a whole 
load  of  plunder.  Among  the  goods  we  found  the  stock  of  a tailor, 
who  had  been  robbed  in  Brooklyn  some  time  before.  The  “ fence  ” 
was  tried,  convicted  and  sent  to  State’s  prison.  As  for  the  thieves, 
they  pleaded  guilty  on  three  charges,  and  were  convicted. 

A coat  button  lost  by  a thief,  the  finding  of  it  by  a policeman, 
the  element  of  luck  entering  to  some  slight  degree  in  the  matter, 
led  to  the  discovery  of  the  burglars,  the  taking  of  the  receiver  and 
the  capture  of  property  worth  a great  deal  of  money,  the  result  of 
seven  burglaries.  I suppose  a certain  tenacity  of  purpose  in  de- 
tective wrork  is  always  necessary.  If  the  clew  is  worthless  to-day,  it 
may  be  valuable  to-morrow.  In  following  up  a rascal  an  endless 
number  of  small  things,  apparently  insignificant,  must  be  always 
borne  in  mind. 

Political  feeling  ran  high  during  the  year  1848.  The  excite- 
ment, in  fact,  was  intense,  and  fights  were  more  than  frequent 
between  the  members  of  the  various  factions.  I was  on  duty  on 
Broadway  the  night  that  Tom  Hyer  thrashed  Yankee  Sullivan. 
It  was  about  twelve  o’clock  when,  just  as  I was  passing  an  oyster 
saloon  at  Park  Place  and  Broadway,  I heard  the  sound  of  disput- 
ing going  on  within.  The  doors  were  wide  open  and  the  place 
was  brilliantly  lighted.  I paused  for  a few  minutes  on  the  side- 
walk, and  then,  as  the  noise  suddenly  ceased,  I proceeded  to 
patrol  my  beat,  going  down  Broadway  towards  Cortlandt  Street. 
Barely  was  the  latter  thoroughfare  reached  before  I heard  the 
rap  of  a policeman’s  club.  Hurriedly  retracing  my  steps,  I found 
the  officer  who  had  signalled  me  standing  in  front  of  the  oyster 
saloon  which  I had  just  left. 


4i 


“ WHO  THE  DEVIL  ARE  YOU  ? ” 

“ There’s  a fight  going  on  down  there,”  he  said , “ somebody’s 
going  to  be  killed.” 

I tried  the  doors  and  found  they  were  locked  and  bolted.  Evi- 
dently there  was  a row  going  on,  and  a lively  one,  judging  from 
the  noise.  Presently  one  of  the  waiters  came  running  out  of  the 
saloon  through  a side  entrance  on  Park  Place,  and  I immediately 
captured  him.  He  showed  me  the  door  through  which  he  had 
come,  and  I entered  the  place,  telling  the  other  police-officer  to 
keep  close  to  me.  But  he  didn’t ; when  I got  inside  he  was  not 
there. 

There  stood  Tom  Hyer,  whom  I knew  well  by  sight  and  repu- 
tation, placing  a percussion-cap  upon 
the  nipple  of  a pistol  which  he  held  in 
his  hand.  In  one  of  the  boxes  was 
Yankee  Sullivan,  who  looked  as  if  he 
had  been  roughly  handled.  I took  in 
the  situation  at  once. 

“ Put  up  that  pistol,”  I said  to  Hyer, 
who  looked  calm  and  collected  enough, 
and  with  no  trace  on  his  person  of  hav- 
ing been  engaged  in  a fight. 

“ Who  the  devil  are  you  ? ” he  asked, 
in  a gruff  voice. 

“ I’m  an  officer,”  I replied,  exhibit- 
ing my  star. 

“They’re  going  to  bring  the  gang 
here,”  said  Hyer,  in  a calm  voice ; 

“ and  I’m  not  going  to  let  them  murder  me  without  a pretty  tough 
fight  for  my  life.” 

“ Come,  get  out  of  this.  Come  along  with  me,”  I said,  and  Hyer, 
taking  hold  of  my  arm,  we  left  the  saloon.  Just  as  soon  as  we 
reached  the  street,  Hyer  said  he  thought  he  would  go  to  the  Em- 
pire Club,  and,  bidding  me  good-night,  crossed  Broadway. 

No  sooner  was  he  out  of  sight  than  a howling  mob  of  Sullivan’s 
friends  came  rushing  toward  me.  They  had  heard  of  Sullivan’s 
discomfiture,  and  were  in  search  of  Hyer,  who,  if  they  had  caught 
him,  would  most  assuredly  have  been  murdered.  Some  of  the 
crowd  asked  me  where  Sullivan  was,  and  when  I told  them  where 
I had  last  seen  him  they  made  a rush  for  the  oyster  saloon.  I 


TOM  HYER. 

(F rom  a Photograph.) 


4^ 


li  >49— ERS.^ 

could  plainly  hear  their  yells  of  rage  when  they  found  their  friend. 

* Hyer  had  not  left  the  place  a moment  too  early. 

I frequently  met  Hyer  after  that,  but  he  never  referred  to  his 
narrow  escape  on  that  night, — neither  did  I.  Concerning  Hyer,  I 
may  say  that  with  associates  of  his  own  class,  who  were  all  fight- 
ing men,  the  word  and 
the  blow  would  follow 
each  other  closely;  but 
with  those  physically 
his  inferiors  he  was 
never  inclined  to  pick 
a quarrel.  The  same, 

I am  sorry  to  say,  can- 
not be  said  of  the  pu- 
gilists of  to-day. 

The  year  1849  opened 
with  the  excitement  re- 
sulting from  the  dis- 
covery of  gold  in  Cali- 
fornia. This  craze,  for 
such  it  was,  exceeded 
anything  of  the  kind 
ever  experienced  in  this 
country.  From  this  city  there  went  merchants,  professional  men 
and  men  of  every  grade  of  wage-workers.  Among  them  was  Sam 
Ward,  the  epicure  and  prince  of  dinner-givers.  He  was  then  a 
member  of  the  firm  of  Prime,  Ward  & King,  but  he  subsequently 
became  the  best  known  lobbyist  in  the  country.  In  the  same  em- 
igration went  three  sons  of  Robert  Emmett,  S.  S.  Osgood,  the  artist, 
and  others.  I well  remember  the  sailing  of  the  bark  “Joseph” 
for  San  Francisco.  She  was  purchased  and  equipped  by  young 
men  from  the  Seventh  Ward.  The  number  of  expeditions  fitted 
out  was  very  large,  parties  coming  from  Utica,  Buffalo,  Hudson, 
Oswego,  Albany  and  other  parts  of  New  York  State. 


YANKEE  SULLIVAN. 
(From  a Photograph.) 


CHAPTER  III. 


ASTOR  PLACE  RIOTS. — FORREST  AND  MACREADY. — “ SI  ” SHAY  AND 
“ BUTT  ” ALLEN. — RIOTERS  STORM  THE  OPERA  HOUSE. — 

FEARFUL  LOSS  OF  LIFE. AUTHORSHIP  OF  INFLAMMATORY 

HANDBILLS. THE  “ HONEYMOON  ” GANG. ENGLISH  ROW  AND 

IRISH  ROW. — ATTACK  ON  N.  P.  WILLIS. — “ STAND  BACK, 

GENTLEMEN.”— JENNY  LIND. BILL  POOLE  AND  LEW  BAKER. 

DELIBERATE  MURDER. GRAND  FUNERAL. AN  OCEAN  CHASE. 

CAPTURE  OF  THE  ASSASSIN. “i  DIE  A TRUE  AMERICAN.” 

THE  SWORD-CANE. — BOND-STREET  TRAGEDY. — THE  BOGUS  BABY. 

The  Astor  Place  riots — the  outcome  of  jealousy  between  the 
two  great  actors,  Forrest  and  Macready — occurred  during  the 
latter  part  of  1849,  two  years  after  my  appointment  as  a police 
officer.  In  this,  therefore,  was  gained  my  first  experience  in  the 
concerted  action  of  the  force  to  quell  a disturbance. 

Upon  the  night  of  the  riot  Macready  was  to  appear  at  the 
Astor  Place  Opera  House.  Long  before  the  hour  for  the  per- 
formance to  begin  a large  and  excited  crowd  assembled  near  the 
theatre.  The  first  two  acts  of  the  play  were  proceeded  with  in  com- 
parative quiet,  though  there  was  some  groaning  and  hissing  heard. 
Being  on  duty  within  the  theatre  I saw  everything  that  occurred. 
In  the  upper  galleries  was  a crowd  of  disorderly  persons,  many  of 
whom  I knew.  Two  of  the  leaders  in  the  disturbance  were  “ Si  ” 
Shay  and  “ Butt  ” Allen.  They  were  yelling  and  inciting  others 
to  do  the  same.  I went  towards  them  with  the  intention  of 
ordering  them  to  desist.  As  I neared  them  Allen  picked  up  a 
heavy  chair  and  was  about  to  throw  it  at  Mr.  Macready,  who 
was  then  on  the  stage.  I caught  hold  of  it.  At  the  same  instant, 
several  young  ruffians,  friendly  to  Allen,  attacked  me,  and  a 
rough-and-tumble  fight  ensued.  Allen  managed  to  wrench  the 
chair  from  my  grasp,  and  taking  careful  aim,  threw  it  at  Macready. 
It  struck  within  two  feet  of  him,  but  he  never  flinched.  He 
simply  looked  up  and  went  on  with  his  lines.  A few  moments 
afterwards  a shower  of  stones  from  the  mob  outside  shattered 
nearly  every  window  in  the  theatre.  This  stopped  the  perform- 

43 


44 


ASTOR  PLACE  RIOTS. 


ance  for  that  night,  and  Mr.  Macready  announced  it  to  be  his  in- 
tention not  to  appear  again  in  this  city.  Many  prominent  per- 
sons waited  upon  him  in  a body,  however,  and  insisted  that  he 
should  give  a second  performance,  promising  him  ample  pro- 
tection. He  reluctantly  consented,  and  the  result  was  one  of 
the  most  serious  disturbances  which  has  ever  occurred  in  New 
York. 

A sewer  was  being  constructed  on  Fourth  Avenue,  and  the  pave- 
ments, in  consequence,  had  been  torn  up.  At  Macready’s  next 
performance  the  cobble-stones  became  effective  weapons  in  the 
hands  of  the  mob.  Where  the  Bible  House  now  stands  was  a 
stone-yard.  The  stone  clippings  which  the  rioters  found  there 
furnished  sufficient  ammunition  to  pelt  the  military  and  police. 
The  main  attack  came  from  Fourth  Avenue,  the  police  being 
stationed  there,  as  well  as  on  Astor  Place,  Broadway,  Eighth 
Street  and  Lafayette  Place.  I was  in  charge  of  the  amphitheatre 
entrance  to  the  theatre,  on  Astor  Place.  There  were  six  men 
under  me.  The  stones  came  from  the  mob  in  volleys.  Several 
soldiers  were  struck  down,  one  or  two  of  them  being  seriously  in- 
jured. I carried  them  within  the  theatre.  There  the  scene  was 
one  of  terror  and  confusion.  Shower  after  shower  of  paving- 
stones  was  hurled  against  the  windows.  The  stones,  however,  fell 
in  the  midst  of  the  frightened  audience,  which  became  positively 
terror-stricken. 

When  the  military  appeared  the  rioters  became  still  more 
demonstrative.  Mr.  Frederick  A.  Talmage,  the  recorder,  ordered 
the  rioters  to  disperse,  but  their  only  reply  was  another  volley  of 
stones.  General  Hall  was  in  command  of  the  military,  and  very 
reluctantly  gave  the  order  to — 

“ Fire!” 

The  first  volley  was  aimed  over  the  heads  of  the  crowd. 
Many  of  the  bullets  struck  the  wall  of  Mrs.  Langdon’s  house,  at 
Lafayette  and  Astor  places,  and  many  innocent  persons,  taking 
no  part  in  the  riotous  proceedings  and  standing  far  from  the 
fighting,  fell  to  the  ground,  wounded  by  the  spent  bullets.  The 
scene  was  now  one  of  the  wildest  excitement,  and  the  fury  of 
the  mob  became  uncontrollable.  Immediately  after  the  first 
firing  some  of  the  rioters  shouted  : 

“Don’t  run;  they’re  only  firing  blank  cartridges.  Damn  ’em, 
they  daren’t  snoot  anybody.” 


45 


46 


THE  HANDBILLS. 


It  was  apparent  that  unless  the  militia  acted  in  a decisive  manner 
they  would  be  driven  from  their  position.  A brief  pause,  and 
then,  amid  the  din  and  discord  of  that  awful  scene,  was  heard  the 
command  : 

“ Fire  ! ” 

There  was  a flash,  a deafening  roar,  and  then  were  heard  the  cries 
of  the  wounded  and  the  groans  of  the  dying.  The  effect  of  that 
volley  was  awful.  Scores  lay  upon  the  ground,  writhing  with  pain. 
1 error-stricken,  the  cowardly  rioters  rushed  from  the  scene,  tramp- 
ling upon  the  prostrate  forms  of  those  who  had  fallen.  In  twenty 
seconds  there  was  not  a person  to  be  seen  on  the  street  who  was 
capable  of  moving. 

Edward  Z.  C.  Judson,  otherwise  known  as  “ Ned  Buntline,” 
took  a very  active  part  in  leading  the  mob.  He  was  arrested  on 
the  spot,  and  subsequently  sentenced  to  one  year’s  imprisonment 
and  a fine  of  $250. 

The  police,  at  this  time,  were  not  uniformed.  They  were  com- 
mended by  all  peaceful  persons  for  their  bravery.  So  far  as  I was 
able  to  learn,  not  a single  man  showed  the  white  feather. 

A careful  inquiry  was  made  after  the  riot  as  to  its  cause.  Mr. 
Matsell,  the  chief  of  police,  was  satisfied  that  there  had  been  pre- 
meditation on  the  part  of  some  of  the  rioters,  and  placed  clews  in 
my  possession  to  be  followed. 

My  experience  has  satisfied  me  that  the  concerted  actions  of  a 
mob  have  rarely  anything  spontaneous  about  them.  In  most  cases 
the  so-called  “ uprising  ” has  much  premeditation  in  its  composi- 
tion. In  order  to  bring  about  the  Astor  Place  riot,  handbills  were 
distributed,  and  an  endeavor  had  been  made  to  set  two  elements  of 
our  foreign  population  against  each  other — the  English  and  the 
Irish.  Some  of  these  handbills  bore  an  appeal  to  the  Irish,  headed, 
“ Will  you  allow  Englishmen  to  rule  this  country  ? ” Others  were 
addressed  to  Englishmen,  calling  upon  them  to  “ sustain  their  coun- 
trymen.” The  latter  were  circulated  among  the  English  sailors. 
Both  handbills  were  pasted  side  by  side  upon  walls,  boxes  and  all 
available  places.  Astor  Place  was  designated  as  the  rendezvous 
for  both  factions. 

Mr.  Matsell  furnished  me  with  copies  of  both  handbills,  and  I 
at  once  sought  the  printer.  The  first  place  I visited  was  a job  of- 
fice in  the  old  Tribune  Building.  There  the  proprietor  informed 
me  that  from  some  peculiarity  in  the  type  he  suspected  they  were 


ISAIAH  RYNDERS.  47 

printed  at  an  office  in  Ann  Street.  Thither  I went,  and  at  once 
asked,  as  if  I were  sure  of  the  whole  matter  : 

“ For  whom  did  you  print  these  handbills  ? ” 

“ I don’t  know  ; I can’t  tell  you,”  was  the  reply.  “ A man  called 
with  the  copy,  gave  me  instructions  to  print  the  bills,  paid  me  in 
advance  and  ordered  me  to  deliver  them,  with  the  copy,  at  No.  2 s 
Park  Row.” 

“ All  right,”  I replied. 

Now,  I knew  that  the  Empire  Club  occupied  rooms  at  the  ad- 
dress mentioned.  I also  knew  that  it  was  the  headquarters  of  the 
“ Native  American  ” party,  as  it  was  then  called.  There  was  a saloon 
there,  kept  by  William  Miner  ; it  was  frequented  by  members  of 
the  Empire  Club.  I went  to  Miner,  and  questioned  him  about  the 
mysterious  package  of  handbills. 

“ Yes,”  he  said  ; “ there  was  such  a package  left  here.  Some- 
body came  and  took  it  away,  but  I don’t  know  who  it  was.” 

That  was  as  far  as  I could  trace  the  handbills.  I never  discov- 
ered who  wrote  the  copy,  or  who  had  the  bills  printed  and  circulated. 
But  for  all  that  I had  my  suspicions. 

Some  months  after  the  riot,  while  I was  standing  in  front  of  Chief 
Matsell’s  office,  Isaiah  Rynders  came  along.  I immediately  began 
a conversation  about  the  Astor  Place  riot,  and  suddenly  made  this 
remark,  in  a sharp  tone  of  voice  : 

“The  man  who  got  up  those  handbills  ought  to  have  been  shot, 
instead  of  so  many  innocent  persons.” 

Rynders  turned  upon  me,  and  in  an  angry  manner  said  : “ Well, 
maybe  you  ought  to  have  been  shot  instead  of  me.” 

“ I haven’t  accused  you  of  it  yet,  Mr,  Rynders,”  I replied. 
“ But  if  the  shoe  fits,  you  are  welcome  to  .rear  it.” 

My  last  remark  seemed  to  put  Rynders  in  a greater  passion. 
He  ripped  out  in  a savage  manner : 

“It  was  a big  red-headed  Irishman  of  about  your  size  who  did 
it.” 

I had  no  direct  evidence  that  Rynders  had  taken  any  part  in 
the  distribution  of  the  bills,  but  I shall  always  believe  that  he  was 
one  of  those  who  incited  the  trouble. 


In  1849  my  first  two  years  of  service  expired,  and  owing  to  po- 
litical differences  with  the  aldermen  who  appointed  me  was  re- 
fused* a re-appointment.  I removed,  however,  to  Ward  Eighteen, 


48  “stand  back,  gentlemen.” 

lived  there  for  a short  time,  and  was  once  more  nominated  for  a 
position  on  the  force,  this  time  by  Alderman  Jonas  Conkling. 
This  appointment,  under  the  existing  laws,  was  for  the  term  of 
four  years  ; but  in  1853  an  act  was  passed  by  the  Legislature  em- 
powering policemen  to  retain  their  position  during  good  conduct. 
This,  I believe,  was  the  first  time  that  appointments  on  the  force 
were  made  for  merit  only.  The  same  year  I was  promoted  to  be 
captain  of  police  in  the  Eighteenth  Ward.  The  station  was  on 
Twenty-ninth  Street,  between  Madison  and  Fourth  avenues. 
“ Squatters  ” were  plentiful  in  this  locality.  Fights  were  of  fre- 
quent occurrence,  and  the  precinct  was  by  no  means  as  orderly 
as  it  is  now.  There  was  one  especially  notorious  party  of  ruffians, 
known  as  the  “ Honeymoon  Gang.”  It  was  named  after  its 
leader.  For  a long  time  the  members  of  this  “ gang  ” had  every- 
thing their  own  way,  and  I determined  to  clear  them  out  of  the 
ward.  Taking  five  or  six  of  my  best  men,  all  in  citizen’s  dress,  I 
began  hunting  the  ruffians,  and  in  a few  weeks,  by  dint  of  some 
pretty  hard  “licks,”  judiciously  administered,  the  ward  was 
cleared.  At  this  time  there  was  no  regular  surgeon  attached  to 
the  force  to  care  for  prisoners,  and  we  had  to  frequently  call  upon 
one  who  lived  near  the  station  to  dress  their  wounds.  His  fee 
was  $1.00  for  attending  to  a single  cut.  Not  infrequently  one 
head  would  be  worth  as  much  as  $5.00  to  him. 

On  Twenty-second  Street,  between  Second  and  Third  avenues, 
there  were  two  rows  of  tenements,  known  as  the  “ English  ” and 
“ Irish.”  They  were  on  either  side  of  the  street,  and  the  occu- 
pants were  rarely  at  a loss  for  an  excuse  to  come  to  blows.  I 
have  known  them  to  indulge  in  as  many  as  a dozen  fights  in  one 
evening.  After  dusk  the  life  of  a policeman  who  patrolled  this 
beat  alone  was  not  worth  much.  But  by  a severe  course  of  disci- 
pline the  neighborhood  was  soon  made  safe. 

It  was  in  June,  1850,  that  Edwin  Forrest  assaulted  Nathaniel 
P.  Willis,  the  poet.  This  encounter  occurred  in  Washington 
Square,  Forrest  striking  Willis  from  behind  and  knocking  him 
down.  While  the  latter  was  on  the  ground,  Forrest  beat  him  un- 
mercifully with  a gutta-percha  cane.  Willis  shouted  loudly  for 
help,  but  the  bystanders  who  attempted  to  interfere  were  warned 
off  by  Forrest,  who  exclaimed  : 

“ Stand  back,  gentlemen  ; he  has  interfered  in  my  domestic 
affairs.” 


A $225.  SEAT. 


49 


After  a few  more  blows,  Forrest  allowed  Willis  to  make  his  es- 
cape, badly  bruised.  This  encounter,  I have  every  reason  to 
know,  was  an  outcome  of  the  famous  Forrest  divorce  case. 

The  arrival  of  Jenny  Lind  in  this  country  on  September  1, 
1850,  by  the  steamship  “ Atlantic,”  was  the  occasion  of  a great  as- 
sembly in  the  vicinity  of  the  Canal-Street  pier,  where  a triumphal 
arch  had  been  erected.  From  thirty  to  forty  thousand  persons 
were  packed  upon  the  wharf  and  vicinity.  Five  or  six  of  them 
were  pushed  into  the 
water  in  the  mad 
struggle  to  obtain  a 
glimpse  of  the  famous 
songstress.  Her  first 
concert  was  given  in 
Castle  Garden.  She 
received  $ 1000  a 
night  for  her  services. 

Genin,  the  hatter, 
paid  $225  for  the  first 
choice  of  a seat.  The 
receipts  for  the  first 
concert  were  $24,753. 

During  the  years 
1854-55  violence  and 
ruffianism,  resulting 
from  the  “ Know  No- 
thing ” excitement, 
was  rampant.  It  was 
in  the  early  part  of  1855  that  “ Bill”  Poole,  the  famous  pugilist, 
was  murdered  by  Lewis  Baker.  Between  these  men  there  had 
been  much  “ bad  blood,”  and  it  was  foretold  by  those  who  knew 
both  men  that  their  differences  could  only  be  settled  by  the  death 
of  one.  On  the  night  of  February  24,  1855,  Poole  was  shot  by 
Baker  in  Stanwix  Hall,  opposite  the  Metropolitan  Hotel,  in  Broad- 
way. “Lew”  Baker,  James  Turner,  and  a man  named  McLaugh- 
lin, alias  “ Paudeen,”  followed  each  other  into  Stanwix  Hotel  at 
about  midnight.  Poole  was  standing  in  front  of  the  bar,  drinking 
with  some  of  his  friends.  “ Paudeen,”  who  was  the  last  to  enter, 
remarked  to  him  as  he  locked  the  door : 

“ What  are  you  looking  at,  you  black-muzzled ? ” 

4 


BILL  POOLE. 
(From  a Photograph.) 


MURDER  OF  BILL  POOLE.— STANWIX  HALL. 


5 


“ I DIE  A TRUE  AMERICAN.” 

Poole,  who  must  have  known  something  serious  was  to  happen, 
was  very  cool.  Even  when  “ Paudeen  ” had  spit  in  his  face 
several  times  and  challenged  him  to  fight,  Poole  simply  took  a 
hundred  dollars  in  gold  from  his  pocket  and  offered  to  bet  that 
amount  upon  his  ability  to  thrash  any  one  of  his  opponents.  He 
treated  “Paudeen”  with  disdain,  saying  he  was  beneath  his 
notice.  Suddenly,  Turner  took  off  his  cloak,  and  swinging  a 
large  revolver  once  round  his  head,  fired  at  Poole,  using  the 
hollow  of  his  left  rrm  as  a rest.  From  some  cause  or  other  the 
bullet  entered  Turner’s  arm  and  he  fell  to  the  floor,  but  not 
before  he  had  fired  a second  shot.  This  time  Poole  was  wounded 
in  the  leg.  He  staggered  toward  Baker,  who  drew  his  revolver 
and  fired  two  shots  into  Poole  as  he  lay  on  the  floor.  He  then 
escaped  from  the  saloon.  Notwithstanding  that  one  of  the  bullets 
penetrated  Poole’s  heart,  he  was  taken  to  his  home  and  actually 
lived  fourteen  days  afterwards.  Poole  was  a brawny  man,  proud 
of  the  fact  that  he  was  an  American.  In  those  days  such  men 
were  in  politics.  Upon  his  death-bed  his  last  words  were  : “ I 
die  a true  American.” 

The  excitement  following  the  tragedy  was  great,  and  Poole’s 
funeral  was  one  of  the  most  extraordinary  I ever  remember  to 
have  seen.  It  was  attended  by  an  immense  assembly  of  “ sports” 
and  “ toughs,”  together  with  thousands  of  respectable  men  who 
belonged  to  the  “ Native  American  ” party,  and  Broadway  was  com- 
pletely lined  with  spectators  from  Bleecker  Street  to  Whitehall. 
The  coffin  was  wrapped  in  the  American  flag,  and  plays  were  pro- 
duced at  various  theatres  in  the  city,  in  which  the  hero,  encircling 
his  limbs  with  the  star-spangled  banner,  departed  this  life  to  slow 
music  and  red  fire,  exclaiming  : “ I die  a true  American  ! ” 

Baker  boarded  a brig  bound  for  the  Canary  Islands,  but  the 
clipper  yacht  “ Grapeshot  ” was  sent  in  pursuit,  arriving  at  the 
port  of  Teneriffe  two  hours  before  the  vessel  in  which  the  mur- 
derer had  taken  passage,  and  Baker  was  brought  back  to  New 
York.  He  was  indicted  with  a number  of  others,  and  tried  three 
times  for  the  murdei.  The  jury,  however,  disagreed  in  each  case, 
and  he  was  finally  discharged  on  bail. 

There  has  been  only  one  funeral  of  such  character  since  then 
which  approached  that  of  Poole’s.  This  was  that  of  Joseph  Elliott, 
killed  by  “Jerry”  Dunn,  in  Chicago,  in  1884,  and  buried  from 
New  York.  His  funeral  came  the  nearest  in  magnitude  to  that  of 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  IUT' 


52 


DR.  BURDELL. 


Poole’s,  and  was  attended  by  “ toughs,”  “blacklegs,”  gamblers, 
and  “ sports  ” of  all  grades. 

Perhaps  the  last  recorded  case  of  the  use  of  the  sword-cane  was 
at  the  St.  Nicholas  Hotel,  now  demolished,  but  well  known  to 
travellers.  Dr.  R.  H.  Graham,  of  New  Orleans,  at  the  dead  of 
night,  intoxicated,  noisy,  and  being  unable  to  find  his  room,  was 
accosted  by  a fellow-guest,  Colonel  Charles  Loring,  of  California, 
whose  slumbers  had  been  disturbed,  and  who  arose  from  his  bed. 
Graham,  enraged  at  the  interference,  drew  a sword  which  the  cane 
enclosed,  and  without  warning  plunged  it  into  the  body  of  the 
Colonel,  whose  cries  aroused  the  entire  hotel.  The  Colonel  died. 

I continued  captain  of  the  Eighteenth  Ward  until  the  close  of 
1856.  It  was  in  the  following  year  that  what  was  known  as  “the 
Bond-Street  tragedy  ” occurred.  At  about  half-past  ten  o’clock 
on  the  night  of  Friday,  January  3,  1857,  many  persons  residing 
on  Bond  Street  were  startled  from  their  sleep  by  the  shrill  cry  of 
“murder!”  Then  followed  silence,  and  those  who  had  been 
aroused  turned  over  and  went  to  sleep  again.  The  next  morning 
it  was  discovered  that  Dr.  Harvey  Burdell,  a dental  surgeon,  of 
No.  31  Bond  Street,  had  been  murdered  in  the  night.  When  his 
room  was  entered  by  a boy  to  light  a fire,  a terrible  scene  was 
disclosed.  The  life-blood  of  Dr.  Burdell  had  smeared  the  whole 
apartment  with  its  crimson  stains.  It  had  splashed  against  the 
door  to  a height  of  five  feet.  There  was  blood  on  the  stairs,  in  the 
hallway  and  on  the  front  door,  I^ood  was  also  on  the  stairway 
leading  to  the  attic,  and  on  the  floor  of  the  attic  itself.  An  exam- 
ination disclosed  fifteen  wounds  on  the  body,  any  one  of  which 
would  have  been  sufficient  to  cause  death.  In  addition,  there 
was  the  mark  of  a cord  around  the  neck,  as  though  an  attempt 
had  been  made  to  strangle  the  dentist.  That  the  murdered  man 
had  fought  desperately  against  his  unknown  assailant  there  could 
be  no  doubt,  the  furniture  of  the  room  being  scattered. 

The  ostensible  landlady  of  the  house  was  a Mrs.  Cunningham, 
the  house,  owned  by  Dr.  Burdell,  being  leased  to  her.  Mrs. 
Cunningham,  it  was  said,  was  very  much  in  love  with  the  doctor, 
and,  as  she  subsequently  asserted,  had  married  him  on  the 
28th  of  October,  the  previous  year.  This  fact  was  denied  by 
the  relatives  of  the  murdered  man  ; but  there  is  little  doubt  that 
On  the  date  mentioned  Mrs.  Cunningham  was  married  to  some- 
body. If  she  was  in  fact  Mrs.  Burdell,  at  the  doctor’s  death  she 


THE  BOGUS  BABV.  53 

would  be  entitled  to  her  share  of  his  property,  and  he  was  quite 
a wealthy  man. 

There  also  lived  in  the  house  a Mr.  John  J.  Eckel,  who,  it  w’as 
reported,  was  a lover  of  Mrs.  Cunningham.  Both  were  arrested, 
but  Mrs.  Cunningham  alone  was  tried.  She  was  acquitted  after 
a three  days’  hearing. 

And  now  comes  the  sequel.  If,  as  Mrs.  Cunningham  asserted, 
she  had  been  married  to  Dr.  Burdell,  she  would,  after  his  death, 
be  entitled  to  one-third  of  his  property.  As  the  mother  of  a 
child  by  him  she  would  secure  control  of  the  whole  of  it. 
This  absolute  possession  was  what  she  wanted,  but  in  order 
to  have  her  desire  satisfied  it  would  be  necessary  to  secure  a 
child.  She  went  about  the  business  in  a most  methodical 
manner,  “ making  up,”  as  time  went  on,  after  the  most  artistic 
fashion.  Unfortunately,  however,  *for  the  ultimate  success  of  her 
plan,  she  made  a confidant  of  Dr.  Uhl.  He  informed  District 
Attorney  Hall,  and  between  the  two  it  was  decided  to  let  Mrs. 
Cunningham  have  all  the  freedom  she  wanted.  She  asked  the 
doctor  to  assist  her  in  her  subterfuge,  and  he  promised  to  aid  her. 
The  time  set  for  the  consummation  of  the  scheme  drew  near.  At 
length  the  child  was  “ born  ” again,  one  having  been  obtained 
from  Bellevue  Hospital,  through  the  connivance  of  the  District 
Attorney. 

Mrs.  Cunningham  was  happy.  But  not  for  long.  She  made 
her  claim  on  the  estate,  and  was  at  once  confronted  with  the  most 
damning  proofs  of  her  intended  fraud.  What  became  of  her  is 
not  known,  but  I think  she  went  to  California,  and  afterwards 
wandered  from  place  to  place.  A year  or  two  ago  she  appeared 
in  this  city  again,  under  an  assumed  name,  in  a “dispossession  ” 
case,  before  the  First  District  Civil  Court.  She  was,  however, 
so  old  and  poor  as  to  be  almost  unrecognizable. 

Eckel  turned  out  badly,  serving  a term  of  imprisonment  for 
defrauding  the  Government. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


CHANGES  IN  POLICE  DISCIPLINE. POLITICAL  INFLUENCE. FER- 

NANDO WOOD’S  BATTLE. — WARRANT  FOR  THE  ARREST  OF  THE 

MAYOR. HE  DEFIES  MY  AUTHORITY. ANOTHER  ATTEMPT. 

THE  SEVENTH  REGIMENT  APPEARS  ON  THE  SCENE. — RELUC- 
TANT SURRENDER. $50,000  WORTH  OF  DIAMONDS. HICKS, 

THE  PIRATE. A FLOATING  SLAUGHTER-HOUSE. A COSTLY 

BANQUET. FLOORS  WASHED  WITH  WINE. VISIT  OF  THE  PRINCE 

OF  WALES. EXECUTION  OF  CAPTAIN  GORDON. — MARRIED  TO 

HER  FATHER’S  COACHMAN.— rMURDER  IN  THE  “ LIBRARY.” A 

JUSTIFIABLE  DEED. THE  PANIC. RUN  ON  THE  BANKS. 

From  1853  to  1857  the  police  force  was  controlled  by  a commis- 
sion composed  of  the  mayor,  recorder  and  city  judge.  At  the 
commencement,  all  officers  were  selected  and  promoted  for  effi- 
ciency. This  continued  until  Fernando  Wood  became  mayor, 
when  he  assumed  full  control  of  the  force,  which  resulted  in  its 
being  used  for  political  purposes.  It  failed  to  give  satisfaction 
and  was  ridiculed  and  condemned. 

In  1857  the  Legislature  declared  that  the  great  city  was  too  cor- 
rupt to  govern  itself,  and  the  control  of  the  police  was  transferred 
from  the  city  to  the  State.  The  new  police  district  comprised  New 
York,  Kings,  Westchester  and  Richmond  counties,  and  was  man- 
aged by  a board  of  five  commissioners  appointed  by  the  Governor. 
These  men  appointed  the  chief,  who  under  this  act  was  given  the 
title  of  superintendent  of  police  and  controlled  the  whole  force. 
Under  him  were  two  deputy  superintendents,  five  surgeons,  in- 
spectors and  captains  (not  to  exceed  forty),  sergeants  (not  more 
than  one  hundred  and  fifty),  the  rest  being  called  “ patrolmen.” 

Of  course  the  change  created  a tremendous  excitement  in  the 
force,  and  there  was  much  talk  of  resistance  among  the  old  mem- 
bers, encouraged  by  the  mayor,  Fernando  Wood.  In  May  the 
new  law  was  declared  constitutional  by  the  Supreme  Court.  That 
settled  the  matter  in  my  mind.  But  fifteen  captains  and  between 
seven  and  eight  hundred  policemen  refused  to  obey  the  commis- 

54 


FAC  SIMILE  OF  BADGE  PRESENTED  TO  ME  ON  OCTOBER 
THIRTEENTH,  1853. 


On  the  reverse  is  this  inscription  : 

George  W.  Walling, 

Eighteenth  Patrol  District. 

Presented  to  George  W.  Walling,  on  his  promotion  to  the  office 
of  Captain  of  the  Eighteenth  Ward  Patrol  Districf,  by  the  officers 
attached  to  the  office  of  the  Chief  of  Police,  and  other  friends,  as 
a token  of  respect  and  esteem. 


55 


56 


“just  the  man  WE  want.” 


sioners.  When  called  upon  to  vote  on  the  question  as  to  which 
side  they  would  serve  (the  Municipal  or  the  Metropolitan),  the 
old  or  the  new,  only  about  300  out  of  1100  voted  at  roll-call  to 
support  and  respect  the  authority  of  the  State  board.  The  others 
were  tried  for  insubordination  and  dismissed  ; but  they  defied  dis- 
missal and  remained  on  duty  and  in  charge  of  the  police  stations. 
The  Metropolitans  rented  headquarters  in  White  Street. 

So  the  Mayor  filled  the  places  of  the  300  absentees  in  .the 
Municipal  force.  Subsequently  the  Metropolitan  board  filled  the 
800  vacancies  in  the  State  force.  Thus  there  were  two  complete 
sets  of  policemen  on  duty,  covering  the  same  beats  throughout 
the  city.  Collisions  were  frequent. 

When  Deputy  Superintendent  Matsell  refused  to  obey  the  order 
of  the  Metropolitan  board  to  furnish  men  to  go  to  Quarantine  and 
guard  the  public  hospitals  he  was  dismissed  and  I was  sent.  I 
took  charge,  and  came  up  to  the  city  jail  to  report  at  police  head- 
quarters. On  the  sixteenth  of  June,  when  I arrived  at  headquar- 
ters, in  the  hallway  I met  Jas.  W.  Nye,  one  of  the  police  commis- 
sioners appointed  by  the  Governor,  and  afterwards  a senator  from 
Nevada.  He  hailed  me. 

As  I went  in  at  the  door,  he  said  : “ Here’s  just  the  man  we 
want.” 

Turning  toward  me,  he  added  : “Come  in  the  room.” 

He  took  me  into  the  room  beforejhe  other  commissioners,  and 
said  : 

“Here’s  a warrant  for  the  arrest  of  Fernando  Wood.” 

I said  : “ Very  well,  give  it  to  me.  Shall  I arrest  him  now  ? ” 

“Yes,  this  minute,”  answered  Nye.  “ How  many  men  do  you 
want  ? ” 

“ None.” 

Nye  smiled  grimly,  and  handed  me  the  warrant.  I found  the 
City  Hall  the  scene  of  great  excitement.  It  was  filled  with  hun- 
dreds of  the  Mayor’s  police. 

I stepped  to  the  anteroom  of  the  Mayor’s  office,  and  sent  in 
my  name.  I was  requested  to  wait  till  the  Mayor  was  at  leisure, 
and  after  five  or  ten  minutes  the  man  at  the  door  said : 

“ The  Mayor  will  see  you  now.” 

As  I went  in  the  Mayor  inquired : “ Well,  sir,  what  will  you 
have  ? ” 


11  I WILL  NOT  BE  TAKEN.”  57 

“I  have  a warrant  for  your  arrest,”  I answered,  exhibiting  the 
paper. 

“ I do  not  recognize  you  as  an  officer,”  he  said ; “ I dismissed 
you  from  the  department.” 

“ I am  an  officer,”  I retorted ; “ a member  of  the  Metropolitan 
police.” 

“ I do  not  recognize  the  legality  of  the  service  or  the  existence  of 
the  Metropolitan  police,”  he  answered.  “ I will  not  submit  to  ar- 
rest, or  go  with  you,  or 
concede  that  you  are 
an  officer  at  all.” 

I remarked : “Well, 
sir,  as  we  don’t  agree 
on  that  point,  I shall 
be  obliged  to  do  as  I 
always  did  when  I 
served  warrants  under 
your  authority  ; I shall 
have  to  take  you  out 
forcibly  if  you  resist.” 

“ I will  not  be  taken  ! 

You  may  consider  that 
answer  resistance  if 
you  please.” 

“ No,  sir,  that  is  not 
resistance,”  I replied. 

“ That  is  only  refusal.” 

I went  around  the  desk  to  take  hold  of  him ; he  ordered  me 
away  and  struck  his  office  bell.  It  brought  Captain  Ackerman, 
of  the  Municipals,  who  had  adhered  to  the  Mayor’s  usurpation. 
He  rushed  in  with  several  of  his  men.  He  and  his  men  grabbed 
hold  of  me  at  Wood’s  order  and  forcibly  ejected  me  from  the 
office. 

I would  have  been  put  out  of  the  building,  except  that  I was 
well  known  to  the  men  in  the  corridors,  having  served  with  them. 
So  I came  and  went  at  pleasure.  One  of  the  Municipals,  a 
stranger,  stopped  me,  but  others  shouted  to  him  : 

“ Here  ! What  are  you  about  ? Let  go  of  him  ! He’s  all  right.” 

I reported  to  the  recorder,  James  M.  Smith,  who  had  issued 
the  warrant ; and  he  immediately  wrote  a letter  addressed  to 


5« 


u PRESERVERS  OF  THE  PEACE.” 

Sheriff  Westervelt,  directing  him  to  furnish  me  with  a posse  for 
the  execution  of  the  warrant.  This  I delivered  to  the  sheriff,  who 
requested  me  to  wait  till  he  could  consult  his  counsel,  Mr.  Brown, 
of  the  firm  of  Brown,  Hall  & Vanderpoel. 

While  I was  waiting,  I was  surprised  to  see  a body  of  fifty  Met- 
ropolitan policemen  marching  from  Chambers  Street,  apparently 
under  the  command  of  Coroner  Perry  and  Captain  Jacob  Seabring, 
of  the  Ninth  Ward. 

D.  D.  Conover,  who  claimed  to  be  street  commissioner,  had 
obtained  an  order  of  arrest  against  the  Mayor  and  Sheriff  from 
Judge  Hoffman,  in  a suit  for  damages  for  having  been  forcibly 
ejected  from  the  office  which  he  claimed. 

As  the  patrolmen  came  up  the  steps  there  was  a collision.  The 
place  was  garrisoned  by  some  800  or  900  Municipals,  who  attacked 
the  approaching  force,  about  one-fifteenth  of  their  number.  There 
was  a fierce  battle  between  the  “ preservers  of  the  peace.”  The 
Metropolitans  were  attacked  front,  flank  and  rear,  and  terribly 
beaten.  Many  were  badly  hurt,  and  a few,  including  Patrolman 
Crofut,  of  the  Seventeenth  Precinct,  were  almost  killed.  The 
seriously  wounded  were  carried  over  to  Recorder  Smith’s  rooms. 
There  doctors  dressed  their  injuries.  The  affair  was  a disgrace 
and  dishonor  to  the  Mayor,  and  from  it  his  reputation  never  re- 
covered. 

About  this  time  Mr.  Brown,  the  lawyer,  came  into  the  sheriff’s 
office,  and,  after  a short  consultation,  said  : 

“ Sheriff  Westervelt,  it  is  clearly  your  duty  to  get  the  necessary 
force  and  execute  this  warrant  at  all  hazards.” 

The  sheriff  answered : “ Come  with  me,  you  and  Walling,  and 
we’ll  execute  the  warrant.” 

I returned  to  the  Mayor’s  office  with  them,  where  Mr.  Brown 
said  : “ Mr.  Mayor,  here  is  an  order  for  your  arrest.  It  is  in  the 
hands  of  the  sheriff  of  this  county.  I warn  you  that  it  is  your 
duty  as  a law-abiding  citizen  to  quietly  submit  to  arrest.” 

Mayor  Wood  stood  up  behind  his  desk,  seized  his  staff  of  office, 
jammed  it  down  defiantly  and  angrily  on  the  floor,  and  exclaimed  : 
“I  will  never  submit!  You  are  invading  the  city’s  precincts  and 
violating  the  law.  I will  never  submit.  You  only  want  to  humil- 
iate me  ! I will  never  let  you  arrest  me.” 

Mr.  Brown  then  added:  ‘‘Mr.  Mayor,  a battle  has  been  fought 
before  this  building,  and  a number  of  men  have  been  nearly  killed 


\ 


FIGHT  BETWEEN  THE  METROPOLITAN  AND  MUNICIPAL  POLICE. 


6o 


WELL,  OUR  GAME  IS  UP.” 

on  account  of  your  obstinacy  in  resisting  the  execution  of  a proc- 
ess. Your  duty  is  to  submit  to  arrest  by  the  officers  of  the  law, 
and  if  you  refuse,  and  further  blood  is  shed,  the  consequences  will 
be  on  your  head.” 

Just  at  this  moment  George  W.  Matsell,  who  had  continued  to 
act  as  Chief  of  Police  under  Wood,  entered  the  door  and  said, 
exultingly  : “ Mr.  Mayor,,  the  Metropolitans  came  and  we’ve  beat 
them  off.” 

The  Mayor  refused  to  allow  himself  to  be  arrested,  and  we,  de- 
siring to  avoid  another  combat,  retired  and  consulted.  Soon  after, 
the  Seventh  Regiment  was  seen  gayly  marching  down  Broadway  to 
take  the  boat  for  Boston,  where  it  was  to  have  a grand  reception. 
The  Police  Board  called  upon  General  Sanford  for  assistance. 
The  regiment  was  halted,  the  trumpets  were  stilled,  and  the  regi- 
ment marched  into  the  Park.  It  formed  in  line  in  front  of  the 
City  Hall,  facing  the  Mayor’s  window. 

Matsell  and  his  men  looked  out  at  the  exhibition,  and  said  to 
one  another  : “ Well,  our  game  is  up.” 

Their  conclusion  seemed  to  be  correct,  for  General  Sanford 
walked  into  the  City  Hall  by  the  side  of  Street  Commissioner 
Conover,  and  the  writ  was  fead  to  the  obstinate  mayor. 

Wood  saw  that  further  resistance  would  be  not  only  futile  but 
wicked,  and  he  submitted  to  arrest.  The  conflict  between  the 
State  and  the  city  was  over.  The  Metropolitans  had  won.  By  an 
arrangement  the  Municipals  held  their  places  for  a month  after 
that,  during  which  both  the  “ old  ” and  the  “ new  ” were  on  duty, 
saluting  each  other  on  their  beats.  But  it  was  observed  by  all 
men  that  in  this  conflict  of  authority  and  the  anomalous  conditions 
which  accompanied  it,  the  city  had  become  demoralized.  The  re- 
pression of  crime  had  been  neglected,  thieving  had  become  ram- 
pant, and  law-breakers  had  ceased  to  respect  or  fear  the  officers  of* 
the  law.  The  succeeding  troubles  followed  as  a matter  of  course. 

One  thing  I should  mention  in  connection  with  this  conflict  of 
authorities.  Those  officers  of  the  Metropolitan  police  who  had 
been  wounded  in  the  affray  sued  Mayor  Wood  for  their  injuries, 
and  employed  Mr.  David  Dudley  Field  as  their  counsel.  Mr. 
Charles  O’Connor  was  retained  for  the  defendant,  against  whom  a 
verdict  was  rendered  for  each  of  the  plaintiffs  for  $250,  together 
with  the  total  costs,  amounting  to  about  $13,000.  The  defendant 


THE  DIAMOND  WEDDING. 


6 r 

never  paid  the  money.  It  was  finally  put  in  the  tax  levy  by  the 
Legislature,  and  the  city  eventually  paid  both  damages  and  costs. 

A great  crowd  thronged  old  St.  Patrick’s  Cathedral  in  Molt 
Street  early  on  the  morning  of  October  13,  1859,  to  witness  the 
marriage  of  Miss  Frances  Amelia  Bartlett,  daughter  of  Lieutenant 
W.  A.  Bartlett,  of  No.  59  West  Fourteenth  Street’  and  Don  Este- 
ban Sancta  Cruz  de  Oviedo,  a very  wealthy  Cuban  planter.  The 
ceremony  took  place  at  noon,  and  was  performed  by  Archbishop 
Hughes.  The  reception  following  this  wedding  was  so  thronged 
that  detectives  were  sent  to  watch  the  house.  The  jewels,  ordered 
from  Tiffany’s,  cost  $50,000  ; the  bride’s  wardrobe  was  valued  at 
$15,000.  A few  days  after  the  wedding  Mr.  Edmund  Clarence 
Stedman  published  a satirical  poem  on  the  humorous  features  of 
the  event.  This  he  entitled  “The  Diamond  Wedding.”  The 
poem  angered  Lieutenant  Bartlett,  and  he  sent  a challenge  to  Mr. 
Stedman.  The  poet  refused  to  apologize,  and  Mr.  Bartlett  with- 
drew his  challenge. 

The  trial  of  Hicks,  the  pirate,  occurred  in  i860.  He  was  one  of 
the  crew  of  the  oyster  sloop  “ E.  A.  Johnson,”  which  left  this  port 
on  March  16,  for  Deep  Creek,  Virginia.  The  crew  of  the  sloop  con- 
sisted of  Captain  Burr,  Oliver  and  Smith  Watts  (boys),  and  a man 
who  had  shipped  under  the  name  of  William  Johnson.  He  after- 
wards turned  out  to  be  Hicks.  Five  days  after  the  sloop  left  New 
York  'she  was  picked  up  at  sea  and  towed  to  Fulton  Market  slip. 
There  was  no  one  on  board,  and  everything  was  in  confusion. 
The  cabin  floor  and  furniture,  as  well  as  the  bedding,  were  spat- 
tered and  stained  with  blood.  The  scene  was  a ghastly  one.  The 
day  previous  to  the  finding  of  the  sloop,  Johnson,  it  was  afterwards 
discovered,  had  returned  to  his  home  in  New  York,  with  a large 
amount  of  money  in  his  possession.  He  had  immediately  started 
for  Providence,  R.  I.,  with  his  wife  and  child.  He  was  followed 
and  arrested,  but  denied  that  he  had  ever  been  on  the  sloop,  or 
that  his  name  was  Johnson.  A watch  belonging  to  Captain  Burr, 
and  a photograph  given  to  Oliver  Watts  by  a young  lady,  were 
found  on  him,  however,  and  his  identity  was  also  established  in 
many  other  ways.  His  name,  he  said,  was  Albert  E.  Hicks. 

Notwithstanding  his  protestations  of  innocence,  he  was  found 
guilty  of  the  murders,  and  sentenced  to  be  hanged  on  Bedloe’s 
Island,  where  the  statue  of  Liberty  Enlightening  the  World  has 
been  erected.  While  in  the  Tombs  after  trial  and  conviction,  Hicks 


62 


HICKS,  THE  PIRATE. 


made  a confession  of  his  guilt.  He  was  hanged  on  July  13, 
i860,  and  maintained  his  coolness  and  bravado  to  the  very  last. 
The  scaffold  was  erected  only  a short  distance  from  the  shore,  and 
the  execution  was  witnessed  by  a large  number  of  persons. 

The  same  year  that  this  horrible  crime  was  committed,  the  first 
embassy  from  Japan  visited  New  York.  This  was  on  the  16th  of 
June,  and  the  arrival  of  the  Japanese  was  made  an  excuse  for 
festivities  of  the  most  elaborate  character.  The  members  of  the 
embassy  arrived  on  the  steamer  “ Alida,”  and  enormous  crowds 
assembled  at  the  Battery  where  they  landed.  Their  journey  up 
town  was  a continuous  ovation.  More  than  six  thousand  soldiers 
were  in  line.  One  of  the  notable  incidents  of  the  visit  was  the 
“matinee”  given  by  Mrs.  James  Gordon  Bennett  in  honor  of  the 
two  Japanese  princes  at  Fort  Washington.  Three  thousand  invi- 
tations were  issued,  and  Delmonico  was  told  to  spare  no  expense 
in  preparing  the  collation.  A grand  ball  was  given  by  the  Munici- 
pal authorities  at  the  Metropolitan  Hotel,  the  tickets  of  admission 
to  which  commanded  a premium  of  $30.  The  hotel  and  Niblo’s 
Garden  were  profusely  decorated  with  flowers.  The  supper  rooms 
were  opened  at  iop.  m.  Ten  thousand  bottles  of  champagne  were 
drunk.  The  crush  was  terrible,  and  before  morning  the  floors 
were  literally  washed  with  wine.  This  was  one  of  the  most  costly 
banquets  ever  given  by  the  city  of  New  York.  It  was  estimated 
that  the  festivities  cost  between  $90,000  and  $100,000. 

It  was  on  Thursday,  at  2 p.  m.,  October  11,  i860,  that  the  Prince 
of  Wales  landed  at  Castle  Garden,  and  was  escorted  to  the  Fifth 
Avenue  Hotel  by  the  military  and  police.  The  Prince  rode  in  a 
barouche  drawn  by  six  horses.  Broadway  made  a beautiful  dis- 
play of  bunting,  and  the  Prince  was  continually  greeted  with 
cheers.  A grand  serenade  was  given  him  at  midnight.  A splen- 
did ball,  which  I attended,  was  given  in  the  evening  of  the  second 
day  at  the  Academy  of  Music.  The  Prince  arrived  at  10  p.  m., 
and  shortly  after,  to  the  great  dismay  of  the  enormous  crowd,  the 
ball-room  floor  gave  way,  and  the  police  had  hard  work  to  keep  the 
crowd  back.  The  Prince  folded  his  hands  and  looked  on  without 
emotion.  After  repairs  had  been  made  the  Prince  opened  the 
ball  with  Mrs.  Governor  Morgan. 

At  this  ball,  as  at  all  others  tendered  him  in  various  parts  of  the 
country,  partners  were  assigned  the  Prince  who  were  evidently  not 
to  his  taste.  As  a general  rule,  ladies  very  estimable  in  every  re- 


PRINCE  OF  WALES’  BALT 


64 


A SLAVE  TRADER. 


spect,  but  advanced  in  years,  were  forced  upon  his  notice  and  com- 
pany. The  result  was  that  it  was  only  towards  the  close  of  the 
ball  that  this  scion  of  royalty  was  free  to  exercise  his  own  fancy 
in  the  matter  of  selecting  partners  from  among  the  youthful  beau- 
ties present. 

Toward  the  close  of  i860  I was  placed  in  command  of  the 
Twentieth  Ward.  The  trial  of  Captain  Nathanief  Gordon,  the 
slave  trader,  occurred  the  following  year  and  excited  a great  deal 
of  public  attention.  Gordon  was  master  of  the  ship  “ Erie,”  and 
sailed  from  Havana  for  the  west  coast  of  Africa,  having  on  board 
everything  considered  necessary  for  carrying  on  the  slave  trade. 
Near  the  mouth  of  the  Congo  River  he  shipped  nine  hundred  ne- 
groes, male  and  female,  who  were  packed  in  the  hold  without  ven- 
tilation. He  then  set  sail  for  Cuba,  but  when  about  fifty  miles 
from  his  journey’s  end  he  was  captured  by  the  United  States  man- 
of-war  “ Michigan,”  and  conveyed,  together  with  such  of  his  human 
freight  as  had  survived  that  awful  passage,  to  Monravia.  Upon 
his  second  trial — the  jury  having  failed  to  agree  upon  a verdict  in 
the  first  instance — he  was  convicted,  and  sentence  of  death  was 
passed  upon  him  by  Judge  Shipman.  “ Remember,”  said  the 
Judge,  “ that  you  showed  mercy  to  none — carrying  off,  as  you 
did,  not  only  those  of  your  own  sex,  but  women  and  helpless 
children.  Do  not  flatter  ^urself  that,  because  they  belonged  to 
a different  race  from  yourself,  your  guilt  is  therefore  lessened. 
Rather  fear  that  it  is  increased.  Do  not  imagine  that,  because 
others  shared  in  the  guilt  of  this  enterprise,  yours  is  thereby  di- 
minished ; but  remember  the  awful  admonition  of  the  Bible : 
‘Though  hand  join  in  hand,  the  wicked  shall  not  go  unpun- 
ished.’ ” His  execution  was  fixed  for  February  7,  1862,  and  the 
most  strenuous  exertions  were  made  by  Gordon’s  relatives  and 
friends,  particularly  his  devoted  wife  and  mother,  to  save  the  man 
from  the  gallows.  They  even  went  to  Washington  together  in  the 
hope  of  obtaining  a pardon  from  the  President.  Their  efforts 
were  in  vain,  but  a respite  of  two  weeks  was  granted.  On  the 
evening  previous  to  the  day  set  for  his  execution,  Gordon  took  a 
most  affecting  farewell  of  his  family.  Mrs.  Gordon,  together  with 
the  prisoner’s  aged  mother,  called  at  the  prison  about  six 
o’clock  in  the  evening  and  remained  an  hour  or  more.  He  re- 
ceived them  in  a most  affectionate  manner  and  talked  most 
tenderly  of  his  little  son,  who  was  absent.  He  appeared  to 


HANGING  OF  GORDON,  THE  SLAVE  TRADER. 


5 


65 


66 


THE  COACHMAN. 


trouble  himself  very  little  about  his  own  fate,  but  was  very  anxious 
concerning  the  future  of  his  wife  and  only  child.  At  about  three 
o’clock  the  next  morning  the  keepers  who  occupied  the  same  cell 
with  Gordon  were  considerably  surprised  to  see  him  seized  with 
convulsions.  A physician  was  summoned,  and  it  was  found  that 
Gordon  was  suffering  from  the  effects  of  poison.  How  he  ob- 
tained it  no  one  could  tell.  The  man  was  evidently  dying,  but  by 
means  of  the  stomach-pump  and  the  use  of  brandy  he  was  brought 
back  to  consciousness.  He  then  begged  the  doctors  to  let  him 
die  by  his  own  hand  rather  than  suffer  the  disgrace  of  a public 
execution.  But  to  no  avail.  Gordon  walked,  or  rather  tottered, 
to  the  scaffold  in  the  City  Prison  like  a drunken  man,  and  while 
the  rope  was  being  adjusted  he  had  to  be  supported  by  two  of  the 
deputy-marshals. 

It  has  been  so  much  the  fashion  of  late  years  for  young  ladies  to 
marry  coachmen,  that  I cannot  help  recalling  almost  the  first  noted 
instance.  It  occurred  in  18^7,  when  Miss  Mary  Ann  Baker,  the 
daughter  of  Mr.  John  E.  Baker,  a well-known  importer  at  No.  93 
Front  Street,  married  John  Dean,  her  father’s  coachman.  When 
Mr.  Baker  heard  of  the  marriage,  he  locked  his  daughter  in  a, 
back  room,  informing  her  friends  that  she  was  of  unsound  mind. 
Dean  procured  a writ  of  habeas  corpus , but  Mr.  Baker  threatened 
to  shoot  the  officer  who  went  to  execute  it.  The  house  was 
watched  until  after  the  departure  of  the  European  steamer  by 
which,  it  was  said,  Mr.  Baker  intended  to  smuggle  his  daughter 
out  of  the  country.  A commission  de  lunatico  inquirendo  was 
appointed,  and  their  report  was  that  Mrs.  Dean  was  perfectly 
sane.  An  order  was  accordingly  made  by  the  court  for  her  res- 
toration to  her  husband. 

In  1857  the  “ Library,”  a saloon  at  No.  480  Broadway,  was  a 
noted  resort.  Theodore  S.  Nims,  formerly  city  librarian,  was 
leaning  against  the  bar  one  evening  in  August,  conversing  with 
a party  of  friends,  when  a Tombs  “ shyster  ” lawyer,  named  Henry 
J.  Wagstaff,  entered  the  place.  He  walked  up  to  the  party  and 
suddenly  struck  Nims  two  stunning  blows  in  the  face.  Nims  took 
refuge  behind  a table,  but  being  closely  followed  by  his  assailant, 
drew  a double-barrelled  pistol  and  fired  two  shots.  Wagstaff 
fell  dead.  An  inquest  was  held,  and  the  coroner,  addressing 
Nims,  who  had  been  arrested  on  a charge  of  murder,  said  : “ In 
my  opinion  this  deed  was  committed  in  self-defence,  and  upon  my 


AT  THE  “ LIBRARY.” 


67 


own  responsibility  I shall  discharge  you  from  custody.”  Wag- 
staff  was  a notorious  character  about  the  city,  and  no  one  ap- 
peared to  regret  his  death. 

The  climax  of  the  great  financial  panic  of  1857  was  reached  on 
October  13th.  The  excitement  on  Wall  Street  was  intense.  Tre- 
mendous “runs”  occurred  on  all  the  banks  in  the  city,  and  tens 
of  thousands  of  people  thronged  the  streets.  Suspensions  were 
the  rule  with  scarcely  an  exception.  Large  forces  of  police 
guarded  the  banks  and  great  trouble  was  feared,  but  the  impend- 
ing storm  blew  over. 


Y 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  POLICE  AND  SECESSIONISTS. AN  ANTE-BELLUM  EPISODE. — 

PLOT  TO  ASSASSINATE  PRESIDENT  LINCOLN. DOWN  IN  DIXIE. 

THE  SOUTHERN  VOLUNTEERS. A PERILOUS  POSITION  AND  A 

MYSTERIOUS  GUIDE. — ON  THE  TRAIN.— A JUMP  FOR  LIFE; — 

BRAVE  TIM  WEBSTER  AND  HIS  SAD  FATE. THE  MAN  WITH  THE 

FUR  CAP. 

To  the  young  men  of  to-day  the  war  is  a thing  of  the  past — a 
page  of  history.  I,  who  belong  to  the  generation  that  is  passing, 
recall  with  a shudder  the  years  of  bloody  fight,  and  that  time  yet 
more  dismal  that  preceded  open  hostilities,  when  all  was  forebod- 
ing, trembling  with  uncertainty;  when,  if  I may  so  express  it, 
the  volcano  was  smoking,  but  not  yet  ablaze. 

One  day,  early  in  January,  1861,  Superintendent  Kennedy 
ordered  me,  by  telegraph,  to  report  immediately  at  headquarters. 
I did  so,  but  he  had  gone,  leaving  word  for  me  to  proceed  to  his 
house.  I went  at  once,  and  found  his  wife  awaiting  me  with  the 
message  that  he  was  at  Cortlandt  Street  ferry,  and  I was  to  meet 
him  there.  I found  him  deep  in  consultation  with  certain  offi- 
cials. He  said  to  me  : 

“ Buy  two  tickets  for  Washington ; you  are  to  go  with  me.  I 
will  explain  later.” 

I bought  the  tickets.  In  fifteen  minutes  we  were  on  our  way  to 
Washington  by  the  fast  express. 

During  the  journey  the  superintendent  told  me  of  the  condi- 
tion of  affairs.  He  was  alarmed  at  the  state  of  public  feeling  in 
Maryland,  especially  in  Baltimore,  through  which  Mr.  Lincoln  was 
to  pass  on  his  way  to  Washington  to  assume  office.  Riots  were 
feared,  and  there  were  sinister  rumors  of  threatened  attempts  to 
assassinate  the  President-elect.  I learned  from  the  superintend- 
ent that  the  Washington  authorities  were  uneasy.  They  had 
requested  that  some  of  the  most  trustworthy  officers  of  the  New 
York  police  should  be  detailed  for  service  in  Baltimore  to  ascer- 
tain what  grounds  there  were  for  such  suspicions. 

68 


■ 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN’S  PERIL. 


69 


Upon  reaching  Washington  we  were  instantly  admitted  to  con- 
sultation with  a Government  officer,  high  in  position,  whose  nerv- 
ousness was  proof  of  the  gravity  of  the  crisis.  With  secret 
instructions  from  this  gentleman  we  went  to  Baltimore. 

Mr.  Kennedy’s  duty'  was  a very  delicate  one.  We  were  soon 
satisfied  that  Baltimore  was  bitterly  irritated,  but  whether  the  feel- 
ing against  Mr.  Lincoln  was  personal  enough  to  make  his  passage 
through  the  city  dangerous  was  hard  to  determine.  Such  evi- 
dence as  we  could  hastily  collect  we  sifted  ; and  though  we  found 
that  many  of  the  rumors  current  in  New  York  were  not  trust- 
worthy, there  was  enough  bad  feeling  to  give  cause  for  alarm. 
The  situation  demanded  closer  investigation,  and  Mr.  Kennedy, 
with  whom  I entirely  agreed,  instructed  me  to  return  at  once  to 
New  York  and  send  on  two  of  the  best  officers  of  the  detective 
corps.  So  back  to  New  York  I went. 

I carefully  considered  the  selection  of  proper  detectives  for  this 
delicate  affair,  and  after  anxious  thought  I chose  Messrs.  Samp- 
son and  De  Voe.  They  were  instructed  to  go  to  Baltimore,  look 
over  the  ground  and  ingratiate  themselves  with  disaffected  per- 
sons. In  other  words,  to  use  their  own  discretion  and  find  out  all 
they  could. 

It  may  be  that  Superintendent  Kennedy  was  thoroughly  in- 
formed as  to  the  exact  situation  in  Baltimore  at  that  time,  though 
this  is  open  to  doubt.  I will  say,  however,  that  I was  not. 
Matters  were  bad  enough,  I knew,  but  I was  not  aware  what  ter- 
rible risks  the  two  officers  were  to  run.  As  this  ended  my  per- 
sonal connection  with  the  affair,  I have  thought  it  proper  to  give 
Mr.  Sampson’s  own  graphic  version  of  his  adventures  : 

“ I was  selected  by  Captain  Walling,  with  Mr.  De  Voe  as  my 
partner,  under  Superintendent  Kennedy’s  orders,  to  go  to  Balti- 
more. Our  instructions  were  to  investigate  the  situation  there 
and  to  see  Mr.  Lincoln  safely  through. 

“As  soon  as  we  reached  our  destination  we  assumed  the  role  of 
Southern  sympathizers  and  mixed  freely  with  the  secessionists. 
I had  been  at  Augusta  and  knew  some  persons  there,  so  I called 
myself  ‘ Anderson  ’ and  hailed  from  Augusta.  De  Voe  dubbed 
himself  ‘ Davis  ’ from  Mobile,  because  he  had  lived  there  for 
some  time. 

“ We  were  well  supplied  with  money,  very  swaggering  and  loud- 
mouthed, and  soon  made  friends  with  a certain  class  of  Southern- 


THOMAS  SAMPSON. 

(Detective  Municipal  and  Metropolitan  Police.  U.  S.  Marshal  and  Chief  of  Police 
U S.  Sub-Treasury.) 


70 


THE  “ SOUTHERN  VOLUNTEERS.’ 


V 


ers  whose  talk  was  ‘ fight  to  kill.’  We  stayed  at  the  Fountain 
Inn  and  for  some  weeks  had  a good  time. 

“ By  degrees  we  worked  our  way  into  the  confidence  of  our  new 
friends.  We  had  to  be  cautious,  though,  for,  as  is  well  known  to- 
day, defection  was  common  enough  in  the  Government  bureaus  at 
Washington,  and  the  South  was  kept  well  posted  of  all  movements 
made  North.  There  were  in  consequence  plenty  of  persons  watch- 
ing the  movements  of  Kennedy  and  the  New  York  police. 

“ For  a time  things  went  on  smoothly.  De  Voe  and  I became 
members  of  a military  company  that  met  regularly  in  a kind  of 
barracks.  Our  presiding  officer  and  military  instructor  was  a 
Texan,  Captain  Hays  by  name,  and  a picturesque  Texan  he  was, 
with  great  flashing  eyes  and  long  floating  hair,  topped  with  a 
huge  white  sombrero.  We  had  no  muskets,  but  that  was  nothing 
to  the  inventive  Texan.  He  put  us  through  the  manual  of  arms 
with  laths.  Sometimes  there  was  a . squad  of  forty  men  at  drill. 
Our  company  was  known  as  the  ‘ Southern  Volunteers.’ 

“ All  this  time  we  were  communicating  with  New  York  by  tele- 
graph. It  would  not  have  been  safe  to  send  messages  from  Balti- 
more, so  we  forwarded  them  from  Cockeysville,  a suburb  of  the 
city. 

“ But  suddenly  I discovered  that  we  were  suspected.  It  was  no 
laughing  matter.  The  ‘Volunteers’  were  loud  in  their  threats 
against  traitors.  The  desperadoes  of  the  company  were  in  the 
majority.  All  carried  revolvers,  and  De  Voe  and  I stood  a first- 
rate  chance  of  being  killed  on  sight.  There  was  even  a detail 
whose  duty  it  was  to  ‘do  away’  with  suspected  persons. 

“ I do  not  know  how  the  intimation  of  danger  came  to  me,  but  I 
was  positive  that  we  were  watched.  I had  been  asked  searchii% 
questions  as  to  the  identity  of  ‘ Davis  ’ (De  Voe).  His  wife  had 
been  indiscreet  enough  to  write  him  a letter,  addressed  in  his  as- 
sumed name,  and  bearing  the  New  York  post-mark.  It  had  been 
in  some  way  seen  by  one  of  the  ‘ Volunteers.’  Now  a letter  from 
the  North  for  ‘ Davis  ’ did  not  dove-tail  with  ‘ Davis’s  ’ account  of 
himself.  I may  here  remark  that  to  act  an  imaginary  story  or 
identity  straightly  is  one  of  the  most  difficult  bits  of  work  a de- 
tective has  to  do. 

“ I was  at  once  asked  many  questions  in  regard  to  the  letter — 
where  it  came  from  and  what  it  was  about.  I had  to  turn  it  off 
as  well  as  I could.  I am  afraid  that  my  explanation  was  not  at 


7 2 U WHAT  ON  EARTH  SHALL  WE  DO  ? ’* 

all  complimentary  to  good  Mrs.  De  Voe,  but  that  unconscious 
victim  was  revenged ; my  explanation  was  accepted  dubiously.  It 
looked  as  if  we,  the  shadowers,  were  about  to  become  the 
shadowed.  A telegram  of  inquiry  to  Augusta  or  Mobile  would 
make  it  very  hot  for  us.  I thought  it  was  time  to  go,  and  we 
went. 

“ How  we  got  to  Washington  in  safety  I do  not  recollect.  We 
were  in  too  tight  a place  for  comfort  and  had  no  time  to  spare. 
We  left  all  our  wardrobe  in  Baltimore  and  assumed  another  guise. 
I remember  that  I had  worn  a heavy  cloth  cap  with  a band  of  fur 
around  it.  I gave  it  away,  and  donned  a soft  slouch  hat. 

“Whew!  let  me  stop  a moment.  A good  many  years  have 
passed,  but  even  now  I cannot  understand  why  we  were  not 
murdered  in  Baltimore,  unless,  perhaps,  the  conspirators  thought 
something  more  was  to  be  had  by  letting  us  go  on  to  Washington. 

“ Well,  we  went  to  Willard’s  and  registered  as  Anderson  and 
Davis.  It  happened  that  our  signatures  were  written  on  the  last 
half  of  the  page.  As  I wrote  I noticed  the  peculiar  scrawl  of 
Horace  Greeley  and  remarked  to  De  Voe  that  we  were  in  good 
company.  We  went  to  our  rooms  and  talked  matters  over.  We 
made  up  our  minds  that  we  were  in  a bad  box.  How  much  did 
we  know  of  these  ‘ Southern  Volunteers  ’ ? They  numbered 
many  hundreds,  perhaps  thousands,  and  we  were  acquainted  with 
but  a few.  We  felt  certain  that  they  were  on  the  watch  for  us. 

“We  could  not  stand  being  caged  in  our  rooms.  We  went 
down  the  stairs,  and  looking  carefully  around,  examined  the  main 
hall.  There,  sure  enough,  we  recognized  several  of  our  genial 
friends,  the  ‘ Southern  Volunteers,’  who  were  critically  examining 
the  hotel  register.  I watched  them  breathlessly.  When  Mr. 
Greeley’s  signature  was  reached  they  stopped  at  that  for  an  in- 
stant. Then  one  of  them  ran  his  finger  down  the  column  and 
stopped  again  while  he  read  our  assumed  names.  I cursed  my 
stupidity  in  not  having  thought  to  change  my  alias.  The  man 
turned  and  whispered  to  his  associates,  and  they  all  went  slowly 
out. 

“‘What  on  earth  shall  we  do?  ’ asked  De  Voe. 

“ ‘ Do  ? ’ said  I,  ‘ I don’t  know.  About  the  best  thing  is  to  get 
some  supper.’ 

“ We  went  slowly  down  the  stairs.  I knew  we  were  watched. 
Some  of  the  party  might  be  outside.  ‘Our  only  chance,’  I 


73 


“i  DO  NOT  RECOGNIZE  YOU.** 

whispered  to  De  Voe,  1 is  that  in  the  crowd  and  confusion  here, 
our  new  get-up  may  throw  them  off  the  track  for  the  moment. 
But  that  won’t  be  for  long.’ 

“ When  we  entered  the  hall,  De  Voe  leaned  on  the  cigar-stand, 
and  I cast  my  eyes  toward  the  billiard-room.  I don’t  want  to  dis- 
guise matters ; I was  afraid,  and  cudgelling  my  brains  how  to  get 
out  of  the  mess  we  were  in.  I did  not  move  for  a few  instants, 
when  a man  in  a long  overcoat  lounged  along  and  got  his  back 
directly  toward  me.  Then  he  suddenly  spoke  to  me — in  a very 
low  tone — so  that  I could  just  hear  his  words : 


WILLARD’S  HOTEL,  WASHINGTON,  D.  C. 


“ ‘ For  God’s  sake,  Tom,  come  out  of  this.’ 

“ He  spoke  just  above  his  breath  and  did  not  move.  I was 
startled,  but  had  wits  enough  about  me  to  understand  that  I was 
not  to  show,  in  any  way,  that  I knew  the  speaker.  I certainly  did 
not,  nor  could  I see  his  face.  His  low  voice  sounded  strange  and 
sepulchral.  Mind,  I was  using  all  my  wits  just  then,  every  nerve 
and  muscle  at  full  strain. 

“ I replied,  also  without  budging : ‘ I do  not  recognize  you/ 

“ The  man’s  hand  just  faintly  moved  behind  him,  as  though  bid- 
ding me  to  follow.  What  was  I to  do  ? Was  he  friend  or  foe  ? 
It  was  just  as  pleasant  to  be  killed  inside  the  house  as  out  of  it. 


74 


‘‘WHERE  IS  WASH.  WALLING?” 


“ The  man  went  deliberately  out  of  the  hotel.  I followed  very 
close  to  him,  my  steps  almost  locking  his.  I carried  a self-cock- 
ing pistol,  and  I knew  how  to  use  it.  I made  up  my  mind  that 
at  the  first  suspicious  movement  I would  shoot.  As  we  stepped 
on  the  avenue  the  man  exclaimed,  still  very  low : 

“ ‘ My  God  ! where  is  Wash.  Walling  ? ’ 

“ I asked  : ‘ What  Wash.  Walling  ? ’ 

“ ‘ Why,  Tom,  Captain  Walling,’  was  the  reply. 

“ This  time  I did  i^ot  answer.  Alert  with  suspicion  I fancied 
that  Captain  Walling  might  be  in  Washington  ; that  it  was  sup- 
posed I knew  where  he  was.  The  man  was  seeking  him.  Wal- 
ling, perhaps,  was  to  be  killed. 

“ My  companion  had  on  a great,  rough  coat,  with  the  collar 
turned  up  to  his  nose.  A heavy  cap  was  drawn  over  his  eyes. 
We  walked  silently  along  Pennsylvania  Avenue.  I was  on  the 
side  toward  the  street,  near  the  gas-lamps.  If  he  is  an  enemy,’  I 
thought,  ‘ he  has  put  me  where  he  can  the  better  see  me.’ 

“ We  had  walked  on  a little  way,  I with  my  hand  on  my  pistol, 
when  the  man  said : ‘ Tom,  for  God’s  sake  tell  me  who  is  with 
you,  and  where  is  your  fur  cap  ? ’ 

“ This  made  me  start.  The  man  knew  I had  exchanged  my 
cap  for  a soft  hat.  He  must  have  followed  me  from  Baltimore.  I 
could  stand  the  suspense  no  longer.  I caught  him  suddenly  by 
the  arm,  spun  him  around  with  my  left  hand,  while  with  my  right  I 
still  gripped  the  pistol.  The  violence  of  the  movement  flung  open 
his  coat  and  shifted  his  cap,  so  that  his  face  was  revealed.  He 
made  no  movement  but  looked  calmly  at  me.  Then  slowly,  very 
slowly,  his  face  came  back  to  me. 

“ ‘ Is  that  you,  Tim  ? ’ I cried,  overjoyed. 

“ 4 You  did  not  know  Tim  Webster,  Tom  ? ’ he  asked. 

“ ‘ You  will  never  know,  Tim,’  said  I,  ‘ how  near  you  came  to 
being  killed.  For  the  last  five  minutes  my  finger  has  been  on  the 
trigger  of  my  pistol.’ 

“ Sure  enough  it  was  Tim  Webster,  whom  I had  not  seen  for 
many  years.  Now  Tim  was  one  of  Captain  Walling’s  and  my  best 
friends.  He  had  been  on  the  force  with  us  in  former  years  and  I 
knew  him  to  be  a man  of  exceptional  honesty  and  courage. 

“ ‘ It  was  not  a question  of  killing  me,  Tom,’  said  Tim  Webster, 
rapidly,  ‘ but  it  is  to  save  you  from  death  that  I have  followed  you. 
Your  life  is  not  worth  a cent.  I swear  to  you  there  are  twenty 


ON  THE  TRAIN. 


75 


men  after  you  this  very  insfant.  Even  now  I expect  we  are  being 
watched.  I may  not  be  suspected,  for  I am  with  them,  but  they 
shan’t  kill  my  old  friend  if  I can  help  it.  But  you  clear  out  of  this 
just  as  fast  as  you  can,  Tom  ; it  is  more  serious  than  you  think. 
The  chances  are  you  will  not  get  through  safely  unless  you  use 
every  precaution.  Quickness  of  movement  is  everything  now.’ 

“ Perhaps  he  thought  I looked  incredulous.  I didn’t  feel  so. 
He  went  on — 

“ ‘ Tom,  it’s  so  close  a shave  that  at  this  moment  if  there’s  any- 
thing particular  you’d  like  to  say  to  your  wife  you’d  better  say  it  to 
me  for  her.’ 

“ This  was  pleasant  indeed.  ‘ But,  Tim,’  said  I,  ‘ I can’t  leave 
De  Voe  in  the  lurch.’ 

“ ‘ He  will  have  to  take  care  of  himself.  You’re  a dead  man  if 
you  go  back  after  him.’ 

“ I insisted,  however,  on  going  back  for  De  Voe,  and  Tim  re- 
luctantly consented  to  help  me.  We  slipped  around  to  the  hotel 
by  a back  way,  and  Tim  told  me  briefly  that  he' was  in  detective 
work  himself  and  had  been  affiliated  with  the  most  desperate 
branch  of  the  Secession  party ; that  he  was  one  of  the  leading 
spirits,  and  that  it  was  his  special  duty  to  kill  De  Voe  and  me  on 
sight. 

“ I managed  by  no  end  of  manoeuvring  to  get;  De  Voe  out  of 
Willard’s  and  explain  matters  to  him. 

“ Said  Tim,  ‘ If  you  go  to  the  railroad  depot  you  will  both  be 
dead  men.  You  will  have  to  walk  around  Washington  some  fif- 
teen miles  and  take  the  train  there.  I will  start  with  you  and  put 
you  on  the  track.  It  is  your  only  chance  of  escape,  for  every 
other  exit  is  guarded.’ 

“ Tim  led  us  out  of  the  city,  and  we  got  to  a barn,  where  he  left 
us.  There  we  slept,  and  early  in  the  morning  took  the  first  train 
to  Baltimore.  Bad  luck  still  pursued  us.  As  we  stepped  in  our 
car  we  saw  three  of  the  1 Southern  Volunteers,’  our  quondam 
friends;  men  we  had  drilled  with. 

“ ‘ There  they  are,’  I whispered  to  De  Voe.  £ If  they  are  only 
three  we  can  hold  our  own,  I suppose.’  Presently,  from  another 
car,  three  more  walked  in.  They  knew  we  were  in  the  car.  One 
of  them,  with  a grin,  pointed  his  thumb  backward  toward  us.  'We 
were  in  the  rear  end.  They  were  deliberating  what  to  do  and  how 
to  do  it.  Then  they  all  sat  down.  Evidently  they  were  going  to 


76 


THE  LEAP  FOR  LIFE. 


wait  till  we  got  out  at  Baltimore,  when  history  would  know  De  Voe 
and  me  no  more. 

“ An  idea — an  inspiration — came  to  my  aid.  4 De  Voe/  said  I, 
‘let  us  take  a jump  for  life.’  De  Voe  understood  in  a moment. 

‘ Done/  he  replied. 

“ We  were  going  at  a rapid  rate,  but  it  was  certain  death  to  stay 
on  that  train ; there  was  a chance  for  life  if  we  jumped.  We 
sauntered  out  on  the  platform,  closed  the  door,  and  took  the  leap. 
De  Voe  fell  with  a yell,  he  had  sprained  his  ankle  badly.  I was 
much  cut  and  bruised,  but  not  seriously  hurt.  The  train  sped  on.. 
We  had  escaped. 


THE  LEAP  FOR  LIFE. 


“ It  was  agony  for  De  Voe  to  walk,  but  he  had  to,  and  I helped' 
him  all  I could.  We  made  the  circuit  of  Baltimore  and  reached 
the  side  opposite  Washington.  We  hailed  a horse-car,  and  I 
helped  De  Voe  on.  Along  we  went,  and,  said  I,  ‘ At  last  we  are 
safe.’ 

“ But  where  should  that  confounded  car  pull  up  but  exactly  in 
front  of  our  old  drill-room.  ‘ Car  stops  here  ! ’ sung  out  the  con- 
ductor. Of  all  places  in  the  world  what  a terminus ! We  had  to 
alight.  I reconnoitred  the  house.  I dreaded  to  see  the  flashing 
eyes,  the  floating  hair,  the  huge  sombrero  of  our  Texan  teacher. 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  SOUTHERNER. 


77 


Thank  heaven  ! neither  he  nor  any  other  ‘ Southern  Volunteer  ’ 
was  visible.  Poor  De  Voe  was  almost  fainting  with  the  agony  of 
his  sprain,  and  could  walk  no  more.  I looked  down  the  street 
and  discovered  a hack  with  a negro  driver.  I went  up  to  him. 

‘ Engaged,  sah,’  says  Sambo.  ‘ How  much  do  you  expect  from 
your  fare  ? ’ I asked.  ‘ One  dollar,  boss.’ 

“ ‘ I will  give  you  five,’  I returned. 

“ The  look  of  joy  that  spread  over  that  darkey’s  face  was  soon 
reflected  on  mine.  The  driver  deserted  his  customer  (I  hope  he 
was  a ‘ Volunteer  ’) ; we  bundled  De  Voe  in  and  rattled  merrily 
away  to  the  Philadelphia  depot.  We  caught  the  train  for  the 
North  and  our  troubles  were  over.  After  we  had  started,  a mem- 
ber of  the  Philadelphia  detective  force,  whom  I knew,  came  up 
and  spoke  to  me.  ‘ Why,  Mr.  Sampson,’  said  he,  ‘ we  were  positive 
that  De  Voe  and  you  had  been  murdered  somewhere  in  Maryland. 
Where  is  your  fur  cap  ? ’ 

“ And  so  we  should  have  been  murdered  but  for  the  good  head 
and  great  heart  of  Tim  Webster,  the  bravest,  coolest  man,  I think, 
that  ever  lived.  Poor  fellow,  his  fate  was  a sad  one.  He  was  ex- 
ecuted as  a spy  at  Richmond.  After  the  war  they  brought  his 
body  North  for  Christian  burial,  and  I followed  to  the  grave  the 
remains  of  him  to  whose  skill  and  courage  I owe  it  that  I am  alive 
to-day  to  tell  this  tale. 

“ Upon  our  return  to  New  York  we  received  the  thanks  of  Su- 
perintendent Kennedy  and  Captain  Walling. 

“ There  were  some  rather  laughable  stories  brought  to  head- 
quarters'about  a man  in  Baltimore  distinguished  by  a renowned 
fur  cap,  who  was  reported  as  a very  dangerous  person,  furiously 
Southern  in  his  sentiments,  breathing  nothing  but  blood  and  mur- 
der. Putting  this  and  that  together  I am  inclined  to  believe  that 
I am  the  individual. 

“ In  conclusion,  let  me  say  that  the  change  made  by  Mr.  Lin- 
coln as  to  the  date  of  his  arrival  in  Washington,  prior  to  his  taking 
the  oath  of  office,  and  his  escape  from  insult,  were  in  no  small 
measure  due  to  the  unwearied  efforts  of  Superintendent  Kennedy 
and  Captain  Walling.” 


CHAPTER  VI. 


IN  WAR  TIME. THE  DRAFT  RIOTS. HEROISM  OF  THE  POLICE. THE 

BATTLE  OF  THE  BARRICADES. — THE  SHARP- 'HOOTER  ON  THE 
ROOF. WITH  A BULLET  IN  HIS  BRAIN. 

Affairs  progressed  very  quietly  in  the  Twentieth  Ward,  of 
which  I was  still  captain,  until  1863,  when  the  draft  riots  occurred. 
We  did  not  lack  warnings  of  these  troubles.  Handbills  bad  been 
circulated  and  meetings  held,  protesting  against  the  draft.  Mr. 
John  A..  Kennedy,  then  superintendent,  did  not  believe  that  these 
mutterings  of  discontent  would  grow  into  riot,  and  did  not  prepare 
for  danger.  Even  on  that  Monday  morning  in  June,  when  the 
first  mob  assembled  and  showed  its  aggressiveness,  the  “ off- 
platoon  ” had  not  been  called  on  duty.  The  only  reserve  ready 
in  an  emergency  was  one  section  of  police  in  each  of  the  stations. 
These  sections  were  immediately  ordered  to  the  scene  of  dis- 
turbance. Having  different  routes,  they  did  not  arrive  at  the 
same  time,  and  were  beaten  by  the  mob  in  detail.  The  only 
effective  way  would  have  been  for  the  various  sections  to  have  had 
a common  rendezvous,  and  then,  when  a sufficient  number  of  men 
had  arrived,  marched  on  the  rioters.  The  police  would  have 
asserted  their  power  and  the  mob  would  have  been  broken. 

For  my  part,  I had  for  several  days  noticed  with  great  uneasi- 
ness the  growing  discontent  among  certain  classes.  Things,  I 
thought,  were  coming  to  a head,  and  so  I remained  at  the  pre- 
cinct station  Sunday  night.  Early  on  Monday  morning  I went  to 
my  house,  took  breakfast  and  proceeded  to  headquarters  to  make 
my  customary  report^  At  Third  Avenue  and  Nineteenth  Street 
I learned,  for  the  first  time,  that  rioting  was  in  progress.  I was 
told  that  the  mob  had  attacked  an  enrolling  office  in  Third  Ave-' 
nue,  driven  off  the  police  and  set  fire  to  the  building.  My  station 
was  in  Thirty-fifth  Street,  between  Eighth  and  Ninth  avenues. 

I immediately  started  back  again  on  the  “ dead  run,”  believing 
the  whole  force  would  be  called  out.  I was  not  mistaken.  In  a 
short  time  orders  were  sent  from  headquarters  directing  me  to  col- 

78 


AT  THE  CITY  HALL. 


79 


lect  my  “ off-platoon. ” Messengers  were  despatched,  and  soon  all 
the  men  reported  for  duty. 

Information  was  received  that  the  rioters  were  on  their  way  to 
the  Colored  Orphan  Asylum,  on  Fifth  Avenue,  between  Forty-third 
and  Forty-fourth  streets,  in  which  were  about  two  hundred  colored 
children,  besides  the  matron  and  attendants.  Then  came  the 
news  that  the  institution  had  been  attacked  by  a mob  three  thou- 
sand strong,  pillaged  and  burned  to  the  ground,  the  inmates 
making  their  escape  as  best  they  could.  All  were  brought  to  my 
station,  the  small  upon  the  backs  of  the  larger,  and  were  made  as 
comfortable  as  possible,  remaining  with  me  a week.  The  poor 
creatures  were  almost  crazed  with  terror,  and  were  glad  enough 
when,  after  the  riots  were  over,  arrangements  were  made  to  convey 
them  to  a temporary  place  of  refuge  on  Blackwell’s  Island.  Just 
as  the  negroes  were  coming  into  the  station  I received  orders  to 
report  at  police  headquarters.  No  cars  or  stages  were  running, 
and  in  order  to  get  to  Mulberry  Street  as  quickly  as  possible  I 
hired  stages,  in  which  I placed  all  my  available  force,  leaving  in 
the  station  a sergeant,  two  doormen  and  a few  partially  disabled 
patrolmen  who  were  on  the  sick-list.  We  arrived  safely  at  head- 
quarters. Meantime  a body  of  rioters  had  attacked  and  burned 
another  enrolling  office  in  Broadway,  near  Twenty-sixth  Street. 

That  evening  we  were  stationed  in  the  City  Hall,  as  threats  had 
been  made  to  destroy  the  Tribune  and  other  newspaper  offices. 
Some  time  during  the  next  morning  one  of  my  men  came  to  me 
and  said : 

“ Captain  Walling,  I’ve  seen  a big,  rough-looking  fellow  peep- 
ing through  the  window.  He’s  done  it  three  or  four  times.” 

“ Ah ! ” I remarked  ; “ perhaps  it  will  be  just  as  well  to  keep  a 
watch  on  him.  Next  time  he  peeps  in  call  my  attention  to  it.” 

“ There  he  is  again,”  said  the  man,  presently.  And  sure 
enough,  the  dim  outline  of  a man’s  face  could  be  seen  pressed 
against  the  window  pane.  I opened  the  door  cautiously,  and 
slipping  out  quietly  grabbed  him  by  the  collar. 

“ Good  heavens  ! ” I exclaimed,  as  I looked  at  his  features. 
“What  are  you  doing  here,  Leonard  ?”  for  it  was  no  other  than 
my  brother,  who  was  a ship-carpenter. 

He  told  me  his  fellow  workmen  had  struck  and  wouldn’t  let 
him  work.  “ Well,  if  you  can’t  work,  can  you  fight  ? ” I asked 
him. 


8o 


“ KILL  EVERY  MAN  WHO  HAS  A CLUB  ! ” 


“ Try  me,”  he  replied. 

I immediately  had  him  sworn  in,  gave  him  a club  and  had  no 
occasion  to  feel  ashamed  of  my  unexpected  recruit.  He  served 
under  me  the  whole  of  the  week,  and  took  an  active  part  in  all 
that  occurred,  on  one  occasion  narrowly  escaping  death. 

That  day  I was  directed  to  proceed  with  my  men — one  hun- 
dred in  number — to  certain  buildings  in  the  Twentieth  and 
Twenty-second  wards  which  were  to  be  protected.  We  marched 
up  Broadway,  being  supported  by  a company  of  regulars  from  the 
Invalid  Corps.  Thirty-second  Street  was  reached  without  any 
exciting  incident ; but  on  arriving  there  I was  informed  that  a 
mob  was  about  to  attack  the  Sixth  Avenue  car  stables.  This  was 
not  exactly  true,  the  mob  having  designs  on  Dr.  Ward’s  and  other 
private  residences  in  the  neighborhood  of  Forty-sixth  Street  and 
Fifth  Avenue.  We  marched  up  to  Forty-fifth  Street,  and  through 
it  to  Fifth  Avenue.  We  were  confronted  by  a howling  mob  of 
men  and  women,  numbering  over  2000.  A large  number  were 
armed  with  bludgeons.  There  was  but  one  thing  to  do,  and  that 
was  done  quickly.  I shouted  out  at  the  top  of  my  voice,  so  that 
the  rioters  could  hear  me  : 

“ Kill  every  man  who  has  a club.  Double  quick.  Charge  ! ” 

And  at  them  we  went  with  our  clubs.  The  rioters  dropped 
their  bludgeons,  tumbling  over  each  other,  and  took  to  their  heels. 

We  took  no  prisoners,  but  left  the  rioters  where  they  fell.  The 
number  of  broken  heads  was  large.  The  mob  dispersed  in  all 
directions,  despite  the  frenzied  cries  of  the  women  for  the  men  to 
“ stand  up  and  give  the  police .” 

This  scrimmage,  however,  was  nothing  compared  with  what  was 
to  follow. 

Early  the  next  day,  Wednesday,  at  the  request  of  General 
Sanford,  I conveyed  a large  number  of  colored  persons,  who-had 
taken  refuge  in  the  Arsenal,  to  my  station.  This  was  crowded 
already,  but  I managed  to  stow  them  away  somehow,  the  officers 
and  men  giving  up  their  rooms.  Barricades  had  been  erected  by 
the  mob  on  Ninth  Avenue,  at  certain  intervals,  all  the  way  from 
Twenty-sixth  to  Forty-second  Street.  These  obstructions  were 
constructed  of  carts,  bricks,  wagons,  etc.,  the  vehicles  being  lashed 
together  with  telegraph  wires,  or  anything  else  that  came  to  hand. 
Many  of  the  rioters  had  fire-arms.  They  could  be  seen  not  only 
behind  the  barricades,  but  on  the  house-tops. 


6 


8i 


BATTLE  OF  THE  BARRICADES. 


HOW  THE  BARRICADE  WAS  WON. 


My  instruciions  were  simply  to  “clear  the  streets,”  and  a com- 
pany of  Zouaves  having  been  sent  to  support  us,  we  proceeded 
to  obey  orders.  We  advanced  towards  the  first  barricade  at  the 
“double  quick”  with  the  soldiers  in  our  rear.  When  within  a 
short  distance  of  it  we  were  greeted  by  a sharp  volley  of  pistol 
shots,  with  an  occasional  bullet  from  a musket  by  way  of  variety. 
Fortunately  most  of  the  balls  passed  over  our  heads,  but  it  was 
warm  work.  The  barricade  could  not  be  carried  by  the  police 
alone,  so  we  deployed  to  the  right  and  left,  thus  allowing  the  sol- 
diers space  in  which  to  manoeuvre  and  return  the  fire  of  the  mob. 
This  they  did,  and  the  rioters  retreated. 

Barricade  No.  i was  won. 

The  police  then  went  to  the  front,  but  were  again  greeted  with 
a volley  from  the  mob,  while  the  Zouaves,  in  skirmishing  order, 
occupied  the  sidewalks,  getting  a shot  at  the  rioters  whenever 
they  exposed  themselves. 

Even  after  so  many  years  one  or  two  tragical  incidents  come 
to  my  mind  in  connection  with  this  sad  affair  as  distinctly  as  though 
they  happened  yesterday.  One  was  that  of  a rioter  who  had 
stationed  himself  with  a musket  at  the  corner  of  an  intersecting 
street,  and  was  firing  at  us  as  fast  as  he  could  load,  simply  poking 
the  muzzle  of  his  gun  round,  he  being  protected  by  the  angle  of 
the  house.  One  of  the  Zouaves  saw'  this  trick,  and,  watching  his 
opportunity,  fired  completely  through  the  wooden  house,  killing 
the  man  instantly. 

Another  fellow  on  top  of  a house  made  himself  very  conspicuous 
during  the  conflict  by  taking  a shot  at  either  the  police  or  the 
soldiers,  and  then  dodging  behind  one  of  the  chimneys.  He 
tried  this  once  too  often.  Suddenly,  while  I was  watching  him, 
he  threw  up  his  arms  and  fell  headlong  to  the  street  with  a rifle 
ball  through  the  very  centre  of  his  forehead. 

Every  inch  of  ground  was  disputed  by  the  now  desperate  rioters, 
but  slowly  and  surely  we  advanced.  One  by  one  we  captured  the 
remaining  barricades  with  the  aid  of  the  soldiers,  until  our  task 
was  accomplished. 

We  marched  back  to  the  station  only  to  find  that  our  duties  for 
that  day  were  by  no  means  ended.  At  night,  word  was  brought 
that  the  mob  had  attacked  a church  in  Twenty-seventh  Street 
belonging  to  a colored  congregation,  and  that  we  must  disperse 
the  rioters. 


AT  THE  CHURCH. 


83 


84 


WITH  A CART  RUNG. 


No  time  was  lost  in  getting  to  the  scene  of  action,  but  the 
rioters  were  well  prepared  to  give  us  a warm  reception.  They 
had  thrown  out  a line  of  pickets  to  warn  them  of  our  approach. 
It  happened  that  several  fire-engines  were  passing  through  the 
street  at  the  time,  and  mixing  with  the  party  of  firemen  we  ap- 
proached close  to  the  church  without  attracting  much  attention. 
The  building  was  occupied  by  the  rioters,  and  no  sooner  was  our 
presence  made  known  than  we  were  greeted  with  a sharp  fusillade 
from  pistols,  muskets,  shotguns,  etc.  My  men  returned  the  fire 
with  their  revolvers,  and  this  was  the  first  time  during  the  day 
that  the  police  under  my  command  had  recourse  to  fire-arms.  But 
now  they  did  use  them  they  proved  most  effective,  as  the  following 
incident  will  show : 

One  of  the  rioters  had  straddled  the  ridge-pole  of  the  church, 
and  was  hacking  away  at  the  timbers  with  an  axe.  The  outline 
of  his  form  stood  out  boldly  against  the  sky,  and  he  was  in  full 
view  of  the  crowd.  His  actions  were  watched  with  great  interest, 
and  I kept  my  eye  on  him,  as  did  everybody  else.  Presently  the 
arm  of  one  of  my  men  was  slowly  raised  to  the  proper  level,  there 
was  a flash  and  a report,  and  the  man  on  the  roof  disappeared 
from  sight.  Next  day  his  body  was  found  at  the  rear  of  the 
church.  The  bullet  had  lodged  in  his  skull,  and  death  must  have 
been  instantaneous. 

That  shot  was  followed  by  a howl  of  rage  from  th£  rioters,  who 
attacked  us  in  a savage  and  determined  manner.  We  also  set  to 
work  with  a will,  clubbing  our  opponents  most  unmercifully.  The 
neighborhood  was  cleared  in  short  order. 

Before  this  a tragic  occurrence  was  added  to  my  day’s  experi- 
ence. I was  standing  on  Eighth  Avenue^at  Thirty-fifth  Street,  late 
in  the  afternoon,  when  six  or  eight  burly-looking  fellows,  armed 
with  clubs,  marched  up  the  street.  In  the  middle  of  the^blGck 
was  a hardware  store  kept  by  a man  named  Heiser,  and  there  it 
was  that  the  party  of  ruffians  stopped.  The  one  who  was  evi- 
dently the  leader  was  flourishing  a heavy  cart  rung,  with  which  he 
attempted  to  smash  in  the  door.  Heiser  dealt  in  guns  and  pistols 
among  other  things,  and  if  these  men  succeeded  in  getting  into 
the  store  they  would  arm  themselves  and  their  comrades.  I was 
alone,  and  there  was  no  time  to  waste  in  seeking  assistance.  The 
fellow  with  the  cart  rung  plied  his  weapon  with  such  energy  and 
strength  that  at  the  third  or  fourth  blow  he  split  the  door  in  two. 


THE  MAN  WAS  DEAD  ! 


85 


It  so  happened  that  his  club  stuck  in  the  crack,  and  while  he  was 
endeavoring  to  pull  it  out  I rushed  forward  and  struck  him  a terri- 
ble blow  on  the  head  with  my  locust.  He  fell  to  the  pavement  as 
if  he  had  been  shot.  His  companions,  who  made  no  attempt  to 
attack  me,  put  him  in  a wagon  and  hauled  him  away.  A doctor 
was  afterwards  sent  for  to  attend  him,  but  his  only  remark  on  see- 
ing the  patient  was  : 

“ He  doesn’t  want  a doctor.  He  needs  an  undertaker.” 

The  man  was  dead ! 

I am  entirely  aware  that  resistance  to  the  draft  was  the  first 
incentive  to  these  disturbances  ; but  in  New  York,  as  in  all  large 
centres  of  population,  where  any  set  of  men  makes  a demonstra- 
tion to  ventilate  its  grievances,  there  will  always  be  grouped 
around  this  party  of  malcontents  the  very  worst  elements  of  so- 
ciety. Aside  from  the  strictly  criminal  classes — always  ready  to 
take  advantage  of  any  local  troubles  in  order  to  carry  on  their 
peculiar  vocations — there  is  a large  body  of  idle  persons,  with  no 
interests  at  stake,  who  amalgamate  with  the  thieves  for  the  pur- 
pose of  sharing  in  the  plunder.  At  times,  when  the  utmost  license 
has  been  rampant,  this  class  has  formed  a most  dangerous  element. 
I really  know  of  no  instance  of  a riot  occurring  in  New  York,  or 
in  any  other  large  city,  during  which  robbery  did  not  play  a prom- 
inent part.  A riot,  or  disturbance,  is  the  thief’s  opportunity,  and 
he  is  sure  to  take  advantage  of  it.  For  more  than  a year  after 
the  draft-riots  various  articles,  stolen  during  the  disturbances  from 
the  houses  of  well-to-do  citizens,  were  discovered  by  the  police  in 
different  parts  of  the  city.  Furniture,  carpets,  china  and  other 
articles  of  a domestic  character  were  carried  off,  and  in  some 
instances  tapestry  carpets,  valuable  rugs  and  rich  hangings  were 
found  decorating  some  of  the  most  squalid  and  poverty-stricken 
shanties  on  Manhattan  Island. 

One  circumstance  more  in  connection  with  these  riots  will  bring 
my  reminiscences  of  them  to  a close.  On  Wednesday  afternoon, 
after  the  Battle  of  the  Barricades  on  Ninth  Avenue,  the  police 
under  my  command,  together  with  the  Zouaves,  returned  to  the 
station.  While  there,  waiting  for  orders,  the  Governor  (Horatio 
Seymour),  accompanied  by  Alderman  John  Hardy,  came  up  and 
I accosted  them.  Alderman  Hardy  said  to  me  : 

“The  Governor  and  myself  have  been  over  on  Ninth  Avenue, 


86 


i can’t  help  that.” 


and  found  a number  of  persons  there  killed  in  the  fight.  It’s  too 
bad.” 

“ I can’t  help  that,”  was  my  reply.  “ They  were  there  behind 
their  barricades,  and  we  had  orders  to  clear  the  street.  If  there 
were  any  innocent  persons  there,  I regret  it  very  much.  But  such 
persons  had  no  business  there  ; they  should  have  got  out  of  the 
way  when  ordered  to  disperse.  It’s  certain  they  were  there,  an.d 
gave  encouragement  to  the  rioters  by  their  presence.  If  they 
come  back,”  I added,  after  a pause,  “ I shall  attack  them  again 
and  serve  them  in  the  same  way.” 

Turning  to  the  Governor,  I asked  him  : 

“ Have  you  anything  to  say,  sir  ; or  any  orders  to  give  ? ” 

The  Governor’s  reply  was  : “ Take  your  orders  from  your  official 
superiors.” 

Both  then  walked  away. 

The  draft-riot  was  certainly  the  most  serious  uprising  that  has 
ever  occurred  in  New  York,  both  in  the  area  over  which  the  dis- 
turbances extended  and  in  the  number  of  persons  engaged  in  it. 
The  forces  of  the  police  at  the  beginning  of  the  trouble  were  not 
of  sufficient  strength  to  cope  with  the  rioters  at  all  points  at  once  ; 
but  whenever  the  police  and  the  mob  came  in  contact  the  former 
were  invariably  the  victors.  No  sooner,  however,  had  the  conflict 
ended  in  one  part  of  the  city  than  it  began  in  another.  That  the 
struggle  would  have  been  prolonged  and  more  disastrous  had  it 
not  been  for  the  aid  of  the  military,  there  is  no  doubt ; but  I be- 
lieve the  police  would  have  subdued  the  mob  eventually. 

Whenever  there  are  the  slightest  premonitions  of  a riot,  an 
ounce  of  prevention  is  worth  more  than  a ton  of  cure  in  the  shape 
of  clubs  or  bullets.  At  the  beginning  of  such  a conflict  a' mob 
has  no  organization,  and  can  be  readily  broken  up. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


CAPTURING  HACKENSACK. — MYSTERIOUS  VISITS  TO  NEW  YORK. — AT 
THE  SHOP  WINDOW. THE  FATEFUL  RING. — RECEIVING  THE,  RUS- 
SIANS.— TRYING  TO  BURN  THE  CITY. THE  BLACK  BAGS. THE 

“BOGUS”  PROCLAMATION. — BURNING  OF  BARNUM’s  MUSEUM. 

AN  UNHAPPY  “ HAPPY  FAMILY.” STRUGGLE  OF  THE  EAGLE  AND 

SERPENT. EMBEZZLING  $2$0,000  TO  SATISFY  BLACKMAILERS. 

A POLICEMAN  MURDERED. 

Shortly  after  the  stirring  events  of  the  early  part  of  1863,  the 
adventures  of  a woman  known  as  Mrs.  Klineschmidt  caused  soci- 
ety to  take  a quickened  interest  in  the  criminal  classes.  To  that 
part  of  the  world  which  did  not  know  her,  Mrs.  Klineschmidt  was 
a lady.  She  dressed  like  one,  looked  like  one,  and  spoke  like  a 
woman  of  education  and  refined  tastes.  Her  acquaintance  was 
cast,  as  much  as  possible,  among  severely  respectable  persons.* 

She  was  young  when  she  first  became  known  to  the  police. 
Her  beauty  was  of  the  full-blown,  blowzy  sort,  if  you  please,  but  it 
was  effective  with  all  men  and  many  women.  She  made  her  phys- 
ical attractions  pay  her  a heavy  royalty  all  the  time.  Not  satisfied 
with  that,  she  became  one  of  the  most  adroit  thieves  ever  known  in 
New  York.  For  some  years,  about  the  time  of  the  war,  she  trav- 
elled between  New  York  and  Chicago,  sometimes  stopping  in  Can- 
ada, and  smuggling  by  wholesale.  She  was  arrested  several  times, 
and  so  became  a person  of  note  on  the  police  records.  She  had  a 
husband  in  the  early  part  of  her  career,  but  he  subsequently  dis- 
appeared. 

Finally  she  disappeared,  too.  Nobody  knew  what  had  become 
of  her.  It  was  afterwards  discovered,  however,  that  she  was  liv- 
ing in  the  village  of  Hackensack,  New  Jersey.  There  in  the  lat- 
ter part  of  1862,  from  the  proceeds  of  her  theft  and  economy,  she 
built  a stylish  mansion.  The  Mandelbaums,  some  of  whom  are 
known  to  the  detective  police  of  America,  lived  across  the  street 
in  good  style.  The  two  households  resolved  to  “capture  Hacken- 
sack.” 


* This  incident  did  not  come  under  my  personal  observation. 

87 


88 


HIGH  LIFE  IN  JERSEY. 


Mrs.  Klineschmidt  was  eager  for  the  fray.  Her  social  ambition 
demanded  that  she  should  “shine  in  society.”.  She  was  anxious 
to  test  upon  persons  of  established  respectability  the  powers  that 
had  won  her  such  success  in  her  own  circle.  She  furnished  her 
house  after  the  most  luxurious  fashion.  In  the  rooms  were  high- 
priced  couches,  lounges,  ottomans  and  easy  chairs,  dressing-cases, 
Wilton  carpets  and  portieres  of  heavy  satin.  The  walls  were  hung 
with  tapestry.  Valuable  pictures  were  on  the  walls,  and  statuary 
was  among  the  decorations  of  hall  and  drawing-room.  On  the 
front  lawn  a fountain  played.  Her  carriage  was  a magnificent 
vehicle — perhaps  a trifle  too  magnificent — the  wheels  and  tongue 
red,  and  the  body  green.  The  upholstery  was  of  brilliant  yellow 
satin.  The  coachman’s  livery  was  of  blue  and  silver,  and  the  har- 
ness of  the  white  horses  was  mounted  with  gold.  She  dressed  in 
the  latest  fashion,  and  her  beauty  was  a theme  of  never-failing 
comment  among  the  male  population  of  the  town.  Some  persons 
to  whom  she  was  a mystery  declared  that  she  was  the  daughter  of 
a rich  old  sea-captain  who  had  just  died  in  Nantucket;  some  that 
she  had  bought  Harlem  at  a lucky  moment  on  a tip  from  Com- 
modore Vanderbilt ; others  that  she  had  got  rich  in  cotton,  by  the 
connivance  of  General  Banks ; still  others  that  she  had  been  the 
housekeeper  for  a miserly  Californian  who  had  just  died  and  left 
her  rich. 

When  she  had  succeeded  in  arousing  the  curiosity  of  the  whole 
town,  she  coyly  confessed  to  the  veterinary  surgeon,  who  called  to 
attend  her  lap-dog,  and  who  said  he  had  seen  service  in  Calcutta, 
that  she  was  the  grandchild  of  an  Indian  merchant  who  had  left 
her  a colossal  fortune,  which  he  had  made  in  the  spice-trade.  The 
man  spread  the  news. 

Ladies  began  to  call  on  her.  Some  were  shy  and  still  inquired. 
The  men  were  not  incredulous ; they  admired  her  from  the  first. 
She  returned  the  calls,  and  did  her  utmost  to  ingratiate  herself. 
The  suspicion  of  the  people  gradually  disappeared.  As  the  winter 
passed  she  gave  a ball  at  her  residence,  and  was  gratified  with  a 
general  response.  She  took  a conspicuous  pew  in  church.  She 
became  the  queen  of  Hackensack. 

There  were  three  or  four  families  who  did  not  welcome  her,  and 
on  these  she  vainly  tried  all  her  arts.  The  men  surrendered,  but 
the  women  refused  to  associate  with  the  Klineschmidt.  This 
she  resented,  and  resolved  to  punish.  One  young  man,  Blank, 


BEFORE  THE  SHOP  WINDOW. 


89 


whose  -wife  was  thus  placed  under  her  ban,  she  secretly  encour- 
aged until  he  was  completely  infatuated  with  her.  He  was  a tall, 
handsome,  alert,  and  wealthy  young  fellow,  and  he  became  dazzled 
by  her  vulgar  splendor,  and  by  the  preference  for  him  which  she 
manifested. 

Mrs.  Blank  was  not  long  in  learning  that  her  husband’s  affec- 
tions were  being  estranged.  She  told  him  her  fears  and  re- 
proached him.  The  secret  of  the  transfer  of  his  affection  soon  be- 
came the  property  of  the  public,  for  the  foolish  fellow  spent  even- 
ing after  evening  at  Mrs.  K’s.  There  was  one  thing  which  con 
fused  and  puzzled  him.  She  spent  two  nights  and  days  of  every 
week  in  New  York;  and  when  he  asked  her  why,  he  received  an 
answer  which  silenced,  while  it  did  not  satisfy  him  He  became 
madly  jealous,  and  resolved  to  find  out  whether  she  had  another 
amour  in  the  great  city. 

His  suspicion  was  wrong.  The  fact  was,  that  being  the  social 
arbiter  of  Hackensack  cost  considerable  money,  and  her  treasury 
needed  constant  replenishing.  Blank,  however,  determined  to  find 
out  what  these  mysterious  disappearances  meant ; and  the  next  time 
she  crossed  to  New  York  he  followed  her.  He  watched  her  go  to 
a house  on  Thirty-fourth  Street,  waited  till  he  was  certain  that  she 
would  remain  there,  then  took  the  number  for  future  investigation, 
and  slipped  back  home.  He  was  unconscious  of  being  followed 
by  a tall  and  graceful  boy.  But  his  wife  had  thus  disguised  her- 
self to  makecertain  of  the  whereabouts  of  the  inconstant  Blank. 

The  next  morning  Mrs.  Blank  expressed  a desire  to  visit  her 
mother,  in  New  York,  for  a day  or  two.  He  assented,  and  she  im- 
mediately crossed  the  river,  took  a school-friend  into  her  confi-  • 
dence,  and  together  they  watched  the  house  on  Thirty-fourth 
Street.  While  they  were  watching,  Mrs.  Klineschmidt  came  in 
after  a predatory  excursion  to  Broadway,  Storing  her  booty,  she 
again  sallied  forth. 

“ There  she  is,  the  hussy  ! Quick,  or  we  shall  lose  her  ! ” ex- 
claimed Mrs.  Blank  to  her  friend. 

“ Hush  ! She  may  notice  us.” 

“ No  fear  of  that.  Our  own  mothers  wouldn’t  know  us  ; and  I 
am  not  certain  that  she  has  ever  seen  either  of  us.” 

“ How  she  is  muffled  up — for  disguise,  I suppose.” 

“ There  ! she  has  stopped  to  see  those  people  by  that  shop  win- 
dow. Let’s  dodge  in  this  door-way,” 


THE  WIDOW  AT  WORK. 


90 


ENTRAPPED. 


91 


“ There  ! There  ! See,  Kate,  see  ! ” 

“ Heavens  ! She  is  a thief.  How  skilfully  she  works  ! ” 

“ What  shall  we  do?  How  shall  we  trap  her  ? ” 

The  ladies  talked  the  matter  over,  and  then  consulted  the  near- 
est captain  of  police.  Mrs.  Blank  did  not  wish  the  woman  ar- 
rested,— “ not  yet.” 

“ Ah  ! ” observed  the  astute  officer , “ you  want  her  to  steal 
something  from  you,  so  that  you  can  hold  it  over  her?  ” 

“ That  was  it,”  said  she. 

“ Very  well ; go  out  to-morrow,  or  any  day  when  you  can  find 
her.  Dress  in  your  best,  so  as  to  attract  her.  When  you  are  in 
her  vicinity  and  feel  yourselves  inspected,  let  your  friend  hand  you 
a roll  of  bills.  Put  them  in  your  purse  and  put  the  purse  in  your 
pocket.  Have  in  it,  also,  some  odd  ring,  or  other  piece  of  jewellery 
that  you  can  identify.  I will  have  a detective  there  to  witness  the 
theft.” 

The  scheme  worked  to  a charm  the  next  day.  Her  purse  was 
taken,  and  the  thief  made  off. 

The  next  week  Mrs.  Klineschmidt  gave  a grand  ball  at  her  house 
in  Hackensack.  Everybody  went  : even  Mrs.  Blank  accompanied 
her  husband,  to  his  great  surprise.  Mrs.  Klineschmidt  met  them 
at  the  door  of  her  drawing-room  with  an  air  of  triumph.  Mrs. 
Blank’s  appearance  created  a sensation.  All  eyes  turned  on  her  ; 
but  they  were  astonished  to  see  that  she  was  arrayed  in  plain 
walking  attire.  She  turned  one  look  on  the  obsequious  figure  of 
her  would-be  hostess,  and  then  to  the  astounded  guests  said  : 

“ I am  sorry  to  disturb  you,  but  this  woman  is  a thief  ! ” 

“ A thief ! ” they  exclaimed  in  amazed  chorus. 

“ Yes,  she  picked  my  pocket  in  Broadway.  There  is  my  emerald 
ring  on  her  finger  now.  The  one  your  neighbors  gave  me  for 
selling  the  most  tickets  at  the  bazaar.” 

Mrs.  Klineschmidt  drew  her  hand  convulsively  within  her 
dress  folds,  and  shouted  in  desperation  : “ You’re  a liar  ! ” 

“ Here  is  an  old  acquaintance  of  yours  who  saw  you  doit.  Walk 
in,  Mr.  Officer.” 

The  detective  stepped  into  the  room.  Soon  all  the  guests 
stepped  out. 

“Well,”  laughed  Mrs.  Klineschmidt,  “ I’ve  had  a good  time,  and 
fooled  all  these  stupid  asses.  Going  over  to-night  ? ” 

“ Yes,”  answered  the  officer. 


‘■THIS  WOMAN  IS  A TIIIEF!V 


“ ARREST  ALL  CARRYING  BLACK  BAGS.” 


93 


And  the  queen  of  Hackensack  was  dethroned. 

Late  in  the  autumn  of  the  year  when  Klineschmidt  was  run  to 
earth  (1863),  Admiral  Lessoffsky,  with  a Russian  squadron,  arrived 
in  New  York  waters.  This  was  the  signal  for  a grand  military 
reception,  a municipal  banquet,  and  a ball  at  the  Academy  of 
Music,  on  the  evening  of  the  fifth  of  November.  This  ball  was  the 
finest  and  most  elaborate  ever  seen  in  New  York.  . Irving  Hall 
was  used  for  a supper  room.  Some  6000  persons  assembled  about 
the  Academy  to  see  the  guests  arrive.  Besides  Admiral  Lessoff- 
sky,  the  guests  included  Baron  Stoeckel,  General  Dix  and  Admiral 
Farragut. 

The  following  year  was  made  memorable  by  the  discovery  of  a 
plot  to  burn  New  York.  The  police  had  received  information  con- 
cerning this  dastardly  scheme,  but  they  refused  at  first  to  believe 
it.  The  intention  of  the  conspirators  was  to  start  fires  up  and 
down  town  at  the  same  time,  and  while  the  firemen  were  thus  en- 
gaged to  fire  the  hotels  in  the  centre  of  the  city. 

The  first  fire  was  discovered  at  8.43  o’clock  on  the  evening  of 
November  25th,  at  the  St.  James  Hotel.  At  the  same  time  Barnum’s 
Museum  was  found  to  be  in  flames.  In  quick  succession,  alarms 
came  from  the  St.  Nicholas  Hotel,  the  United  States  Hotel,  the 
Lafarge  House,  the  Metropolitan,  the  New  England  Hotel  and 
Lovejoy’s.  At  midnight  an  attempt  was  made  to  burn  the  shipping 
in  the  North  River,  and  from  that  time  until  daylight,  the  Bel- 
mont, Fifth  Avenue,  Howard  and  Hanford  hotels,  the  Astor  House 
and  Tammany  Hall  were  found  to  be  on  fire.  Lumber  yards  in 
various  parts  of  the  city  were  also  in  flames.  Fortunately,  all 
these  schemes  miscarried,  and  the  fires  were  extinguished  in  time 
to  prevent  a general  conflagration.  Bags  of  black  canvas  were 
discovered  in  the  rooms  set  on  fire  at  the  different  hotels  and  were 
taken  to  police  headquarters.  Each  contained  a quantity  of  paper, 
about  a pound  and  a half  of  rosin,  a bottle  of  turpentine  and  one 
or  two  bottles  containing  phosphorus  in  water.  The  fires  were 
started  by  piling  the  bedding  in  the  middle  of  the  room  and  satur- 
ating it  with  turpentine,  setting  it  on  fire  and  then  locking  the 
door.  The  hotel-keepers  offered  a reward  of  $ 20,000  for  the  detec- 
tion of  the  criminals,  but  they  all  escaped.  The  terror  in  the  city 
on  the  night  of  the  fire  and  some  weeks  after  was  very  great. 

A somewhat  amusing,  yet  withal  an  important  incident  con- 
nected with  wartimes  in  New  York,  was  the  publication  on  May 


94 


THE  BOGUS  PROCLAMATION. 


18,  1864,  of  what  purported  to  be  a proclamation  from  the  Presi- 
dent, recommending  a Fast-day,  and  calling  for  400,000  troops. 
The  document  was  printed  in  the  World  and  the  Journal  of  Com- 
merce. It  was  soon  discovered  that  the  proclamation  was  bogus. 

A large  mob  collected  about  the  office  of  the  Journal  of  Com- 
merce , in  Wall  Street,  and  demanded  that  the  report  should  be 
contradicted  forthwith.  The  Government  at  once  suppressed  both 
papers,  and  the  Associated  Press  offered  a reward  of  $1000  for  the 
conviction  of  the  author.  In  due  time  it  was  discovered  that 
“Joe”  Howard,  Jr.,  wrote  the  proclamation.  He  was  arrested  and 
sent  to  Fort  Lafayette. 

Although  an  attempt  to  burn  Barnum’s  Museum  had  been  made 
in  the  “Black  Bag  ” conspiracy,  it  was  not  until  July  1,  1865,  that 
it  wras  destroyed  by  fire.  With  it  was  consumed  almost  the  entire 
block  bounded  by  Fulton,  Ann  and  Nassau  streets  and  Broadway. 
The  fire  originated  in  the  upper  story  of  the  Museum,  and  gradu- 
ally worked  its  way  down,  at  the  same  time  spreading  to  the 
adjoining  buildings.  The  entire  loss  reached  $ 2,000,000 . During 
the  progress  of  the  fire  a large  force  of  policemen  was  kept  busy 
in  looking  after  the  thieves  and  pickpockets  with  whom  the  city 
fairly  swarmed  at  that  time.  Several  stores  were  pillaged.  One 
of  the  places  broken  into  was  Knox’s  hat  store,  the  hats  being 
offered  for  sale  in  the  most  barefaced  manner  within  sight  of  the 
shop  from  which  they  were  stolen.  They  found  a r$ady  sale,  so 
many  head-coverings  having  been  lost  in  the  trampling  and  crush 
of  the  vast  crowd. 

Although  I witnessed  the  conflagration,  I prefer  to  describe  it 
in  the  words  of  an  account  which  appeared  in  the  N,ew  York 
Tribune  of  the  following  day,  which  created  a great  sensation  : 

Soon  after  the  breaking  out  of  the  conflagration,  strange  and  terrible  howls 
and  moans  proceeding  from  the  large  apartment  in  the  third  floor  of  the 
Museum,  startled  the  throngs  who  had  collected  in  front  of  the  burning  build- 
ing, and  who  were  at  first  under  the  impression  that  the  sounds  must  proceed 
from  human  beings  unable  to  effect  their  escape.  Their  anxiety  was  somewhat 
relieved  on  this  score,  but  their  consternation  was  by  no  means  decreased  upon 
learning  that  the  room  was  the  principal  chamber  of  the  menagerie  connected 
with  the  Museum,  and  that  there  was  imminent  danger  of  the  release  of  the  ani- 
mals there  confined,  by  the  action  of  the  flames.  Our  reporter  fortunately  occu- 
pied a room,  the  windows  of  which  looked  immediately  into  this  apartment. 
Luckily  the  windows  of  the  Museum  were  unclosed,  and  he  had  a perfect  view 


BURNING  OF  BARNUM’S  MUSEUM. 


96 


BURNING  OF  BARNUM’s  MUSEUM. 


of  almost  the  entire  interior  of  the  apartment.  The  following  is  his  statement 
of  what  followed,  in  his  own  language  : 

“ Protecting  myself  from  the  intense  heat  as  well  as  T could,  by  taking  the 
mattress  from  the  bed  and  erecting  it  as  a bulwark  before  the  window,  with  only 
enough  space  reserved  on  the  top  so  as  to  look  out,  I anxiously  observed  the 
animals  in  the  opposite  room.  Immediately  opposite  the  window  through 
which  I gazed  was  a large  cage  containing  a lion  and  lioness.  To  the  right 
hand  was  the  three-story  cage,  containing  monkeys  at  the  top,  two  kangaroos 
in  the  second  story,  and  a happy  family  of  cats,  rats,  adders,  rabbits,  etc.,  in  the 
lower  apartment.  To  the  left  of  the  lion’s  cage  was  the  tank  containing  the 
two  vast  alligators,  and  still  further  to  the  left,  partially  hidden  from  my  sight, 
was  the  grand  tank  containing  the  great  white  whale,  which  has  created  such  a 
furore  in  our  sight-seeing  midst  for  the  past  few  weeks.  Upon  the  floor  were 
caged  the  boa-constrictor,  anacondas  and  rattlesnakes,  whose  heads  would  now 
and  then  rise  menacingly  through  the  top  of  the  cage.  In  the  extreme  right 
was  the  cage,  entirely  shut  from  my  view  at  first,  containing  the  Bengal  tiger 
and  the  Polar  bear,  whose  tenjlfic  growls  could  be  distinctly  heard  from  behind 
the  partition.  With  a simultaneous  bound  the  lion  and  his  mate  sprang 
against  the  bars,  which  gave  way  and  came  down  with  a great  crash,  releasing 
the  beasts,  which  for  a moment,  apparently  amazed  at  their  sudden  liberty, 
stood  in  the  middle  of  the  floor  lashing  their  sides  with  their  tails  and  roaring 
dolefully. 

“ Almost  at  the  same  mofhent  the  upper  part  of  the  three-story  cage,  con- 
sumed bv  the  flames,  fell  forward,  letting  the  rods  drop  to  the  floor,  and  many 
other  animals  were  set  free.  Just  at  this  time  the  door  fell  through  and  the 
flames  and  smoke  rolled  in  like  a whirlwind  from  the  Hadean  river  Cocytus. 
A horrible  scene  in  the  right-hand  corner  of  the  room,  a yell  of  indescribable 
agony,  and  a crashing,  grating  sound,  indicated  that  the  tiger  and  Polar  bear 
were  stirred  up  to  the  highest  pitch  of  excitement.  Then  there  came  a great 
crash,  as  of  the  giving  way  of  the  bars  of  their  cage.  The  flames  and  smoke 
momentarily  rolled  back,  and  for  a few  seconds  the  interior  of  the  room  was 
visible  in  the  lurid  light  of  the  flames,  which  revealed  the  tiger  and  the  lion 
locked  together  in  close  combat. 

“ The  monkeys  were  perched  around  the  windows  shivering  with  dread,  and 
afraid  to  jump  out.  The  snakes  were  writhing  about,  crippled  and  blistered 
by  the  heat,  darting  out  their  forked  tongues,  and  expressing  their  rage  and 
fear  in  the  most  sibilant  of  hisses.  The  ‘Happy  Family’  was  experiencing 
an  amount  of  beatitude  which  was  evidently  too  cordial  for  philosophical  enjoy- 
ment. A lonsr  tongue  of  flame  had  crept  under  the  cage,  completely  singeing 
every  hair  from  the  cat’s  body.  The  felicitous  adder  was  slowly  burning  in 
two  and  busily  engaged  in  impregnating  his  organic  system  with  his  own  venom. 
The  joyful  rat  had  lost  his  tail  by  a falling  bar  of  iron;  and  the  beatific  rabbit, 
perforated  by  a red-hot  nail,  looked  as  if  nothing  would  be  more  grateful  than 
a cool  corner  in  some  Esquimaux  farm-yard.  The  members  of  the  delectated 
convocation  were  all  huddled  together  in  the  bottom  of  their  cage,  which  sud- 
denly gave  way,  precipitating  them  out  of  view  in  the  depths  below,  which  by 
this  time  were  also  blazing  like  the  fabled  Tophet. 

“ At  this  moment  the  flames  rolled  again  into  the  room,  and  then  again 


BURNING  OF  BARNUM’s  MUSEUM. 


97 


retired.  The  whale  and  alligators  were  by  this  time  suffering  dreadful  tor- 
ments. The  water  in  which  they  swam  was  literally  boiling.  The  alligators 
dashed  fiercely  about,  endeavoring  to  escape,  and  opening  and  shutting  their 
great  jaws  in  ferocious  torture  ; but  the  poor  whale,  almost  boiled,  with  great 
ulcers  bursting  from  his  blubbery  sides,  could  only  feebly  swim  about,  though 
blowing  excessively,  and  every  now  and  then  sending  up  great  fountains  of 
spray.  At  length,  craqjk  went  the  glass  sides  of  the  great  cases,  and  whale  and 
alligators  rolled  out  on  the  floor  with  the  rushing  and  steaming  water.  The 
whale  died  easily,  having  been  pretty  well  used  up  before.  A Jew  great  gasps 
and  a convulsive  flap  or  two  of  his  mighty  flukes  were  his  expiring  spasm.  One 
of  the  alligators  was  killed  almost  immediately  by  falling  across  a great  frag- 
ment of  shattered  glass,  which  cut  open  his  stomach  and  let  out  the  greater 
part  of  his  entrails  to  the  light  of  day.  The  remaining  alligator  became  in- 
volved in  a controversy  with  an  anaconda,  and  joined  in  the  milee  in  the  cen- 
tre of  the  flaming  apartment. 

“ A number  of  birds  which  were  caged  in  the  upper  part  of  the  building  were 
set  free  by  some  charitably  inclined  person  at  the  first  alarm  of  fire,  and  at  in- 
tervals they  flew  out.  There  were  many  valuable  tropical  birds,  parrots,  cock- 
atoos, mocking  birds,  humming-birds,  etc.,  as  well  as  some  vultures  and  eagles, 
and  one  condor.  Great  excitement  existed  among  the  swaying  crowds  in  the 
streets  below  as  they  took  wing.  There  were  confined  in  the  same  room  a few 
serpents,  which  also  obtained  their  liberty ; and  soon  after  the  rising  and  de- 
vouring flames  began  to  enwrap  the  entire  building,  a splendid  and  emblematic 
sight  was  presented  to  the  wondering  and  upgazing  throngs.  Bursting  through 
the  central  casement,  with  flap  of  wings  and  lashing  coils,  appeared  an  eagle 
and  a serpent  wreathed  in  fight.  For  a moment  they  hung  poised  in  mid-air, 
presenting  a novel  and  terrible  conflict.  It  was  the  earth  and  air  (or  their 
respective  representatives)  at  war  for  mastery ; the  base  and  the  lofty,  the  grov- 
eller and  the  soarer,  were  engaged  in  deadly  battle.  At  length  the  flat  head 
of  the  serpent  sank ; his  writhing,  sinuous  form  grew  still ; and  wafted  upward 
by  the  cheers  of  the  gazing  multitude,  the  eagle,  with  a scream  of  triumph,  and 
bearing  his  prey  in  his  iron  talons,  soared  towards  the  sun.  Several  monkeys 
escaped  from  the  burning  building  to  the  neighboring  roofs  and  streets;  and 
considerable  excitement  was  caused  by  the  attempts  to  secure  them.  One  of 
the  most  amusing  incidents  in  this  respect,  was  in  connection  with  Mr.  James 
Gordon  Bennett.  The  veteran  editor  of  the  Herald  was  sitting  in  his  private 
office  with  his  back  to  the  open  window,  calmly  discussing  with  a friend  the 
chances  that  the  Herald  establishment  would  escape  the  conflagration,  which  at 
that  time  was  threateningly  advancing  up  Ann  Street,  towards  Nassau  Street. 
In  the  course  of  his  conversation,  Mr.  Bennett  observed : ‘ Although  I have 
usually  had  good  luck  in  cases  of  fire,  they  say  that  the  devil  is  ever  at  one’s 
shoulder,  and — ’ Here  an  exclamation  from  his  friend  interrupted  him,  and 
turning  quickly  he  was  considerably  taken  aback  at  seeing  the  devil  himself  or 
something  like  him,  at  his  very  shoulder  as  he  spoke.  Recovering  his  equa- 
nimity, with  the  ease  and  suavity  which  is  usual  with  him  in  all  company,  Mr. 
Bennett  was  about  to  address  the  intruder  when  he  perceived  that  what  he  had 
taken  for  the  gentleman  in  black  was  nothing  more  than  a frightened  orang- 
outang. The  poor  creature,  but  recently  released  from  captivity,  and  doubt- 
7 


98 


BURNING  OF  BARNURl’s  MUSEUM. 


less  thinking  that  he  might  fill  some  vacancy  in  the  editorial  corps  of  the  paper 
in  question,  had  descended  by  the  water-pipe  and  instinctively  taken  refuge  in 
the  inner  sanctum  of  the  establishment.  Although  the  editor— perhaps  from 
the  fact  that  he  saw  nothing  peculiarly  strange  in  the  visitation — soon  regained 
his  composure,  it  was  far  otherwise  with  his  friend,  who  immediately  gave  the 
alarm.  Mr.  Hudson  rushed  in  and  boldly  attacked  the  monkey,  grasping  him 
by  the  throat.  The  book-editor  next  came  in,  obtaining  a clutch  upon  the 
brute  by  the  ears;  the  musical  critic  followed,  and  seized  the  tail  with  both 
hands,  and  a number  of  reporters,  armed  with  inkstands  and  sharpened  pencils, 
came  next,  followed  by  a dozen  policemen  with  brandished  clubs  ; at  the  same 
time,  the  engineer  in  the  basement  received  the  preconcerted  signal  and  got 
ready  his  hose,  wherewith  to  pour  boiling  hot  water  upon  the  heads  of  those 
in  the  streets,  in  case  it  should  prove  a regular  systematized  attack  by  gorillas, 
Brazil  apes  and  chimpanzees.  Opposed  to  this  formidable  combination,  the 
rash  intruder  fared  badly,  and  was  soon  in  durance  vile. 

“We  believe  that  all  the  human  curiosities  were  saved ; but  the  giant  girl, 
Anna  Swan,  was  only  rescued  with  the  utmost  difficulty.  There  was  not  a door 
through  which  her  bulky  frame  could  obtain  a passage.  It  was  likewise  feared 
that  the  stairs  would  break  down,  even  if  she  should  reach  them.  Her  best 
friend,  the  living  skeleton,  stood  by  her  as  long  as  he  dared,  but  then  deserted 
her,  while,  as  the  heat  grew  in  intensity,  the  perspiration  rolled  from  her  face 
in  little  brooks  and  rivulets,  which  pattered  musically  upon  the  floor.  At 
length,  as  a last  resort,  the  employees  of  the  place  procured  a lofty  derrick  which 
fortunately  happened  to  be  standing  near,  and  erected  it  alongside  the  Museum. 
A portion  of  the  wall  was  then  broken  off  on  each  side  of  the  window,  the 
strong  tackle  was  got  in  readiness,  the  tall  woman  was  made  fast  to  one  end 
and  swung  over  the  heads  of  the  people  in  the  street,  with  eighteen  men  grasp- 
ing the  other  extremity. of  the  line,  and  lowered  down  from  the  third  story  amid 
enthusiastic  applause.  A carriage  of  extraordinary  capacity  was  in  readiness, 
and,  entering  this,  the  young  lady  was  driven  to  a hotel. 

“ When  the  surviving  serpents,  that  were  released  by  the  partial  burning  of 
the  box  in  which  they  were  contained,  crept  along  on  the  floor  to  the  balcony  of 
the  Museum  and  dropped  on  the  sidewalk,  the  crowd,  seized  with  St.  Patrick’s 
aversion  to  the  reptiles,  fled  with  such  precipitate  haste  that  they  knocked  each 
other  down  and  trampled  on  one  another  in  the  most  reckless  and  damaging 
manner. 

“ Hats  were  lost,  coats  torn,  boots  burst  and  pantaloons  dropped  with  mag- 
nificent miscellaneousness,  and  dozens  of  those  who  rose  from  the  miry  streets 
into  which  they  had  been  thrown,  looked  like  the  disembodied  spirits  of  a mud 
bank.  The  snakes  crawled  on  the  sidewalk  and  into  Broadway,  where  some  of 
them  died  from  injuries  received,  and  others  were  despatched  by  the  excited 
populace.  Several  of  the  serpents  of  the  copper-head  species  escaped  the  fury 
of  the  tumultuous  masses,  and,  true  to  their  instincts,  sought  shelter  in  the 
World  and  News  offices.  A large  black  bear  escaped  from  the  burning  Museum 
into  Ann  Street,  and  then  made  his  way  into  Nassau,  and  down  that  thorough- 
fare into  Wall,  where  his  appearance  caused  a sensation.  Some  superstitious 
persons  believed  him  the  spirit  of  a departed  Ursa  Major,  and  others  of  his 
fraternity  welcomed  the  animal  as  a favorable  omen.  The  bear  walked  quietly 


PHOENIX  RANK  CASHIER. 


99 


along  to  the  Custom  House,  ascended  the  steps  of  the  building,  and  became 
bewildered,  as  many  a biped  bear  has  done  before  him.  He  seemed  to  lose  his 
sense  of  vision,  and  no  doubt,  endeavoring  to  operate  for  a fall,  walked  over 
the  side  of  the  steps  and  broke  his  neck.  He  succeeded  in  his  object,  but  it 
cost  him  dearly.  The  appearance  of  Bruin  in  the  street  sensibly  affected  the 
stock  market,  and  shares  fell  rapidly;  but  when  he  lost  his  life  in  the  careless 
manner  we  have  described,  shares  advanced  again,  and  the  Bulls  triumphed 
once  more. 

“ After  the  fire  several  high-art  epicures  groping  among  the  ruins,  found 
choice  morsels  of  boiled  whale,  roasted  kangaroo  and  fricasseed  crocodile, 
which,  it  is  said,  they  relished  ; though  the  many  would  have  failed  to  appreciate 
such  rare  edibles.  Probably  the  recherche  epicures  will  declare  the  only  true 
way  to  prepare  those  meats  is  to  cook  them  in  a museum  wrapped  in  flames, 
in  the  same  manner  that  the  Chinese,  according  to  Charles  Lamb,  first  dis- 
covered roast  pig  in  a burning  house,  and  ever  afterward  set  a house  on  fire 
with  a pig  inside,  when  they  wanted  that  particular  food.” 

Very  early  on  the  morning  of  August  ioth,  1865,  Patrolman 
McCarty,  of  the  Twenty-ninth  Precinct,  arrested  Henry  B.  Jen- 
kins, cashier  of  the  Phoenix  Bank,  one  of  the  wealthiest  institutions 
on  Wall  Street.  Jenkins  was  charged  with  embezzling  $250,000. 
He  had  been  in  the  employ  of  the  bank  for  twenty  years.  He 
admitted  his  guilt,  and  asserted  that  five  or  six  other  persons 
were  implicated  in  the  crime.  Excitement  ran  high,  and  a num- 
ber of  arrests  were  made  at  once. 

It  soon  became  known  that  Jenkins  was  the  victim  of  an  in- 
famous case  of  blackmailing.  Having  become  the  dupe  of  a 
woman  whose  acquaintance  he  made  in  a concert  saloon,  he  was 
forced  to  support  her  and  her  “lover”  in  richly  furnished  apart- 
ments in  Bleecker  Street.  One  of  the  men  implicated  was  James 
H.  Earl,  a clerk  in  an  office  on  Wall  Street.  He  admitted  hav 
ing  received  $100,000  in  stolen  bonds  from  Jenkins.  He  was 
arrested  and  taken  to  a cell  in  the  police  station,  in  Twenty-ninth 
Street,  near  Fourth  Avenue.  There  he  immediately  committed 
suicide  with  a small  pen-knife,  which  he  had  concealed.  “ Vieve 
Brower,”  the  mistress  of  Jenkins,  and  Charles  Brower,  her  para- 
mour, were  also  arrested.  Vieve  was  the  leech  who  bled  Jenkins, 
sometimes  getting  from  him  as  much  as  $1000.  She  discovered 
Jenkins’  dishonest  practices,  and  used  the  secret  as  a threat  so  that 
she  and  her  associates  could  obtain  money. 

She  told  other  persons  of  her  suspicions,  and  soon  Jenkins 
found  himself  surrounded  by  rowdies,  pimps,  and  ex-bounty 


IOO 


DIED  AT  HIS  POST. 


jumpers,  who  demanded  large  loans  of  money,  which  he  was; 
afraid  to  refuse. 

Soon  after  the  detection  of  this  crime  the  city  was  shocked  by 
the  murder  of  Patrolman  Thomas  Walker.  While  Walker  and 
a f el  low-officer,  named  Rork,  were  patrolling  West  Seventeenth 
Street,  about  two  o’clock  on  Tuesday  morning,  August  15,  1865, 
they  heard  the  screams  of  a woman  coming  from  a carpenter’s 
shop  near  by.  Drawing  their  revolvers,  they  entered  the  place 
where  they  found  twelve  or  fifteen  men. 

“You  devilish  scoundrels,  what  are  you  doing  here?”  cried 
Officer  Rork. 

The  reply  was  a volley  of  shots  from  the  room.  A ball  struck 
Walker  on  the  head,  over  the  right  ear,  passing  through  the 
brain.  He  instantly  fell  dead,  and  was  found  lying  on  his  back 
with  his  pistol  in  the  hand  that  was  stretched  across  his  breast. 

The  men  in  the  carpenter  shop  fled,  but  Rork  pursued  them, 
capturing  one  named  John  Ward.  Before  daybreak  the  police 
had  succeeded  in  arresting  twelve  of  the  gang.  The  funeral  of 
Walker  was  attended  by  the  police  force  of  the  city. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


ALBERT  D.  RICHARDSON’S  MURDER. — THE  DYING  MAN’S  RECOGNI- 
TION.  TRIALS  OF  A YOUNG  WIFE. THE  LOVER’S  PROMISE. 

THE  MURDERER  FREE. VAN  EETEN  FORGERIES. A STERN 

CHASE  BUT  A SUCCESSFUL  ONE. — RE-ARRESTED  WHEN  LIBERTY 
WAS  SECURED. BEFORE  THE  LAST  JUDGE  OF  ALL. 

In  the  latter  part  of  1869,  New  York  gossip  fairly  hummed  with 
the  details  of  the  murder  of  Albert  D.  Richardson,  a prominent 
journalist.  At  five  o’clock  on  the  afternoon  of  November  25,  1869, 
Richardson  opened  the  door  of  the  Tribune  office  which  led 
from  Spruce  Street,  and  walking  to  a desk  at  one  end  of  the 
counter,  asked  if  there  was  any  mail  for  him.  No  sooner  had  the 
words  left  his  mouth  than  from  behind  the  counter  sprang  a man 
with  a revolver  in  his  hand.  He  leaned  forward,  took  hasty  aim 
and  fired.  Richardson,  mortally  shot,  held  on  to  the  edge  of  the 
counter  a moment  for  support,  then  staggered  to  the  fourth  floor 
where  the  editorial  rooms  were,  and  threw  himself  upon  a sofa. 
There  he  lay  in  terrible  agony.  The  murderer,  seeing  that  his 
purpose  was  accomplished,  leaped  over  the  counter  behind  which 
he  had  been  concealed,  and  with  the  still  smoking  weapon  clutched 
to  his  breast,  vanished  in  the  crowd.  George  M.  King,  a clerk, 
stood  within  a few  feet  of  him,  and  yet  so  sudden  was  the  shooting 
that  he  did  not  realize  what  had  happened  until  it  was  over. 
Neither  did  the  other  clerks,  nor  the  men  who  were  going  in  and 
out  of  the  office,  nor  the  passing  throng  on  the  sidewalk.  The 
murderer,  unknown,  unrecognized,  had  disappeared,  leaving  no 
trace. 

In  room  No.  31  at  the  Westmoreland  Hotel  that  night  was  a man 
who  was  unknown  to  the  proprietors,  or  to  any  of  the  guests  in  the 
house.  He  had  registered  in  the  afternoon  with  a trembling  hand, 
and  had  left  orders  not  to  be  disturbed.  At  ten  o’clock  Captain 
Allaire,  of  the  Fourth  Precinct,  knocked  at  the  door  of  that  room. 
He  opened  it  and  found  himself  in  the  presence  of  the  murderer, 
Daniel  McFarland,  an  assistant  assessor  in  the  city  government. 

101 


1 


THE  DEATH-BED  RECOGNITION, 


THAT  IS  THE  MAN.” 


103 

When  told  that  he  was  under  arrest  for  shooting  Albert  Richardson, 
his  limbs  jerked  spasmodically  and  his  features  were  distorted,  as 
he  cried  out  in  hoarse  tones : 

“ My  God,  it  must  have  been  me — No  ! — It  was  not — Yes,  it 
must  have  been  me  ! ” The  man  seemed  dazed. 

There  was  another  scene  before  the  day  closed  on  this  tragedy. 
It  occurred  a half  hour  later,  and  was  placed  in  the  Astor  House, 
room  No.  115.  The  wounded  journalist  was  there  with  his  life 
slowly  ebbing  away.  He  had  been  brought  across  the  square 
from  the  Tribune  building.  Dr.  Swan  had  probed  for  the 
fatal  ball  and  was  trying  to  make  his  patient  comfortable.  Sud- 
denly two  men  entered — one  in  uniform.  They  approached  the 
bed  on  which  Richardson  lay.  The  murderer  and  his  victim  were 
face  to  face.  The  stricken  man  looked  feebly  up,  let  his  eyes  fall 
for  a second  on  the  captain’s  companion,  and  in  a thrilling  whisper 
said : 

“ That  is  the  man.” 

There  was  a woman  in  the  case,  of  course  ; else  gossiping 
tongues  wouldn’t  have  wagged.  This  woman  was  the  wife  of 
Daniel  McFarland.  Her  maiden  name  was  Abby  Sage,  and  her 
childhood  had  been  spent  in  Manchester,  N.  H.  Here  McFar- 
land found  her — a girl  in  her  teens,  bright,  beautiful  and  talented. 
He  was  an  Irishman,  born  in  the  old  country,  left  at  twelve  years 
of  age  without  parents  and  obliged  to  cut  his  own  way  through  the 
world.  He  came  to  this  country,  worked  hard  for  an  education 
and  received  a degree  from  Dartmouth  College.  When  Abby 
Sage  met  him  he  had  been  admitted  to  the  practice  of  the  law  seven 
years.  According  to  her  sworn  testimony  he  had  represented  him- 
self to  be  enjoying  a good  practice  in  Madison,  Wisconsin,  to  own 
property  worth  $20,000  or  $30,000,  and  a man  of  excellent  morals. 
So  they  were  married  in  1857. 

They  went  to  Madison  to  live,  but  after  a few  weeks  returned 
to  New  York.  The  young  wife  ascertained  that  her  husband’s 
property  was  in  Wisconsin  lands,  and  little  money  could  be  real- 
ized on  them.  Within  three  months  fronrthe  time  of  the  marriage 
her  jewels  were  in  the  hands  of  New  York  pawnbrokers  and  the 
bride  was  sent  home  to  visit  her  father.  McFarland  visited  her 
there,  and,  according  to  her  own  story,  she  got  to  know  him  better. 
She  found  out  that  he  was  passionate  in  disposition,  profane,  and 
intemperate.  In  the  following  year  they  took  a house  in  Brooklyn, 


104 


MRS.  MCFARLAND. 


and  at  Christmas  time  a child  was  born — born  to  die  within  a few 
months. 

Domestic  harmony  after  this  was  often  interrupted.  Mrs. 
McFarland  several  times  left  her  husband  on  account  of  his 
alleged  brutality  and  went  home  to  her  father’s.  In  April,  i860, 
the  second  child,  Percy,  was  born.  The  mother  paid  her  physi- 
cian’s bill  out  of  the  proceeds  of  a public  reading  which  she  gave 
for  that  purpose — for  she  had  no  small  talent  as  an  elocutionist. 
In  the  spring  of  1861  the  little  family  moved  back  to  Madison  for 
a year,  and  then  returned  to  New  York.  They  went  to  Mrs. 
Oliver’s  to  board,  at  No.  58  Varick  Street. 

And  now  this  young  woman  of  Puritan  stock,  who  had  beauty 
and  charms  and  talent,  but  an  uncongenial  and  ill-tempered  hus- 
band, began  to  prepare  herself  for  going  on  the  stage.  She  took 
lessons  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  George  Vanderhoff,  and  gave  numerous  dra- 
matic readings,  thereby  earning  enough  money  to  support  both  her 
husband  and  herself.  But  McFarland  continued  to  treat  her 
cruelly.  She  told  afterward,  how  one  morning,  after  he  had  been 
out  all  night  on  a drunken  orgie  and  had  risen  ■ from  their  bed  in 
one  of  his  worst  tempers,*  she  approached  him  as  he  stood  by  the 
mirror  finishing  his  toilet  and  tried  to  soothe  him.  In  reply  he 
turned  around  fiercely  and  struck  the  woman  he  had  married 
across  the  face,  sending  her  reeling  backward.  She  said  that 
sometimes  he  would  extend  his  hands,  with  his  fingers  bent  like 
claws,  as  if  he  were  about  to  clutch  her  throat,  and  cry  out : 
“ How  I should  like — like  to  strangle  you  ! ” She  told  Mrs.  John 
F.  Cleveland  (a  sister  of  Mr.  Greeley)  about  the  blow  she  had  re- 
ceived, and  won  that  lady’s  sympathy. 

About  this  time  and  later,  Mrs.  McFarland,  through  her  read- 
ings, made  the  acquaintance  of  a number  of  persons  who  were 
openly  designated  in  the  courts  afterward  as  Free-lovers,  Fourier- 
ites,  Mormons  and  the  like.  They  were  for  the  most  part  persons 
of  more  or  less  social  prominence  in  the  city,  and  professed  the 
most  affectionate  interest  in  the  young  dramatic  reader.  They  en- 
couraged her  plans  for  going  on  the  stage,  and  were  the  confi- 
dants of  her  trials  and  misfortunes.  The  weak  young  wife’s  heart 
easily  softened  towards  them  under  such  genial  rays  of  affection. 
Mrs.  McFarland’s  enemies  afterward  accused  these  persons  with 
being  the  instruments  of  her  destruction.  They  openly  charged 
them  with  having  conspired  to  tear  her  from  her  legal  husband, 


ALBERT  D.  RICHARDSON. 


io5 

and  join  her  with  him  for  whom  they  thought  her  soul  had  an 
“ affinity.”  But  Mrs.  McFarland,  to  the  last,  denied  the  existence 
of  any  such  conspiracy.  Under  the  influence  of  their  acquaint- 
anceship, however,  or  on  account  of  further  harsh  treatment  from 
her  husband,  the  breach  between  Mr.  and  Mrs.  McFarland  grew 
wider. 

Albert  D.  Richardson,  whom  Daniel  McFarland  shot  in  a fit  of 
jealousy,  was  born  in  1833.  He  chose  a literary  occupation,  and 
during  the  war  became  correspondent  of  the  New  York  Tribune. 
He  was  taken  prisoner  by  the  Confederate  army  and  remained  in 
jail  for  some  time.  After  the  war  he  came  to  New  York,  continued 
his  connection  with  the  Tribune , and  won  considerable  fame  as  a 
newspaper  writer  and  as  the  author  of  several  books.  Among  his 
more  intimate  friends  in  New  York  were  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Samuel 
Sinclair  and  Mrs.  L.  G.  Calhoun.  He  was  a frequent  visitor  at 
their  homes.  Mrs.  Sinclair  and  Mrs.  Calhoun,  it  chanced,  were 
also  Mrs.  McFarland’s  most  intimate  friends.  They  were  attracted 
by  her  charms  and  talents,  and  all  three  being  persons  of  literary 
tastes  found  congenial  companions  in  each  other.  “ There  are  just 
three  persons  who  are  much  to  me  in  the  flesh,”  wrote  Mrs.  Cal- 
houn to  Mrs.  McFarland,  “ you — and  you  can  guess  the  other  two.” 

Mrs.  McFarland’s  introduction  to  such  society  had  given  her  a 
taste  of  the  sweet  poison  which  was  to  ruin  her.  She  longed  for 
wealth  and  refinement  and  love.  Her  home  relations  became 
repulsive  to  her.  Perhaps  she  considered  them  the  irksome  ties 
which  prevented  her  from  occupying  the  sphere  in  life  which  she 
thought  belonged  to  one  of  her  talents.  She  had  won  some  notice 
as  a writer  in  the  Independent,  in  the  Riverside  Magazine,  and  had 
written  a little  book  called  “ Percy’s  Year  of  Rhymes  ” for  chil- 
dren. But  this  success  only  tickled  her  vanity.  She  was  led  by 
her  friends  to  believe  that  she  could  shine  on  the  stage,  and  to 
win  public  applause  behind  the  foot-lights  became  her  sole 
ambition. 

She  first  met  Mrs.  Calhoun  in  the  winter  of  1866.  Mrs.  Cal- 
houn interested  herself  in  getting  Mrs.  McFarland  a theatrical 
engagement.  Her  efforts  were  successful,  and  the  dramatic  reader 
secured  a position  in  the  Winter  Garden  Theatre,  which,  was  con- 
trolled by  Edwin  Booth.  Her  salary  was  $20  a week,  and  on 
November  28,  1866,  she  made  her  debut  as  Neri'ssa,  in  the 
“ Merchant  of  Venice.” 


i o6 


SEPARATION. 


In  January,  1867,  Mr.  and  Mrs. ' McFarland  moved  to  No.  72 
Amity  Street,  and  took  the  back  parlor  and  extension  room.  The 
rooms  were  rented  from  a Mrs.  Mason.  The  two  had  not  been 
there  a month  when  Richardson,  who  had  been  boarding  at  No. 
61  Amity  Street,  came  to  see  about  engaging  rooms.  This, 
Mrs.  McFarland  said,  was  the  first  time  he  had  called  upon  her. 
Richardson  secured  a room,  and  after  that,  Mrs.  McFarland  said 
in  a written  statement,  “ I saw  him  often,  and  he  did  me  many 
kindnesses.  I knew  very  well  he  pitied  me,  because  he  thought  I 
was  overworked  and  not  very  happy.  . . . He  called  sometimes 
at  my  room,  which  was  next  his,  but  from  its  situation,  and  the  fact 
that  it  was  my  sleeping-room,  parlor  and  dining-room  in  one,  made 
it  in  no  sense  a private  room.” 

On  the  evening  of  February  19,  Mr.  McFarland  entered  the 
house  and  saw  his  wife  standing  at  Richardson’s  door.  The  hus- 
band thought  it  was  time  to  expostulate,  and  he  did.  But  this  was 
his  wife’s  reply  : “ I did  not  go  into  Mr.  Richardson’s  room  and  I 
am  not  in  the  habit  of  going  there.  Even  if  I was,  it  is  not  a pri- 
vate room,  but  an  office  in  the  day  time.”  But  Mr.  McFarland  was 
not  satisfied.  That  night  he  raged  and  tore  around.  “ Did  Rich- 
ardson ever  kiss  you  ? ” he  shouted  to  his  wife.  “ Have  you  ever 
been  in  his  room  alone  with  him  ? ” 

The  partition  between  McFarland’s  room  and  Richardson’s  was 
so  thin  that  the  latter  heard  all  this  conversation.  The  next  day 
McFarland  spent  at  home,  and  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  his 
wife’s  lover  open  the  door  and  hurriedly  retreat  as  soon  as  he  dis- 
covered the  husband’s  presence.  McFarland  left  the  house  for  a 
while,  and  when  he  returned  his  wife  had  fled  and  the  boy  Percy 
was  on  his  way  to  Boston.  Mrs.  McFarland  had  gone  to  the  Sin- 
clairs, where  she  had  seen  Richardson,  and  he  had  assisted  in 
taking  her  and  her  boy  from  the  husband  and  father.  Three  days 
later,  in  the  presence  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Oliver  Johnson,  Mr.  Sin- 
clair and  Mr.  Sage,  Mrs.  McFarland  told  her  husband  that  she 
had  determined  to  leave  him  forever.  His  answer  was  brief  : 

“ I bow  to  it,  and  submit  to  it.” 

That  evening  Richardson  was  at  the  Sinclair  house.  As  he 
was  about  to  leave,  Mrs.  McFarland  followed  him  to  the  door.  As 
they  stood  alone  in  the  hallway,  the  woman  murmured  : 

“You  have  been  very , very  good  to  me.  I cannot  repay  you, 
but  God  will  bless  you  for  it.”  She  spoke  with  great  emotion. 


DIVORCE,  MARRIAGE,  DEATH.  IO7 

“ How  do  you  feel  about  facing  the  world  with  two  babies  ? ” he 
asked. 

“ It  looks  hard  for  a woman,  but  I am  sure  I can  get  on  better 
without  that  man  than  with  him,”  was  her  answer. 

All  this  while  Richardson  held  her  hand.  Now  he  leaned  over 
and  in  a low  tone  said  : “ I wish  you  to  remember,  my  child,  that 
any  responsibility  you  choose  to  give  me  in  any  possible  future, 
I shall  be  very  glad  to  take.” 

Two  nights  later  he  called  again,  and  proposed  marriage. 

The  relations  between  the  two  thereafter  are  a matter  of  dis- 
pute, and  I do  not  pretend  to  decide  which  side  was  right.  It 
should  be  mentioned,  however,  that  on  the  night  of  March  13,  of 
this  year,  while  Richardson  was  returning  from  the  theatre  with 
Mrs.  McFarland,  Mr.  McFarland  came  up  behind  them  and  fired 
several  shots,  one  of  them  wounding  Richardson  in  the  thigh. 
Finally,  in  1868,  Mrs.  McFarland  went  to  Indiana  to  get  a legal 
divorce  from  her  husband.  On  October  31,  1869,  she  returned  to 
her  mother’s  house  a free  woman.  She  saw  Richardson  on 
Thanksgiving  Day.  Then  he  went  back  to  New  York,  and  a week 
later  she  heard  that  he  had  been  mortally  wounded  by  her  former 
husband. 

This  was  the  story  of  a woman’s  trials  and  temptations  which 
resulted  in  the  Tribune  office  tragedy.  Shocked  as  the  woman 
undoubtedly  was  by  the  intelligence  which  sped  to  her  over  the 
wire,  she  was  not  frightened.  Her  part  in  this  sad  play  was  not 
yet  ended.  Nothing  but  hate  filled  her  heart  toward  her  lover’s 
murderer;  nothing  but  pity  and  affection  had  she  for  the  dying 
victim.  She  came  to  him  at  once,  and  by  his  bedside  in  the  Astor 
House  watched  until  he  died.  But  three  days  before  death  came, 
Albert  D.  Richardson  and  Abby  Sage  McFarland  were  lawfully 
married.  The  ceremony  was  performed  by  the  Rev.  Henry  Ward 
Beecher  and  the  Rev.  O.  B.  Frothingham.  It  was  a tender  and 
touching  marriage.  Then  came  death,  on  the  night  of  December  2. 
Five  persons  watched  the  spirit  take  its  flight.  These  were 
Junius  Henri  Browne,  Col.  T.  H.  Knox,  Mrs.  Sage  and  the  two 
doctors,  Carter  and  Swan. 

The  trial  of  the  murderer  began  on  April  4,  1870.  His  case 
was  represented  by  Col.  Charles  S.  Spencer,  John  Graham,  and 
Elbridge  T.  Gerry.  For  the  prosecution  were  District  Attorney 
Garvin,  his  assistant,  Mr.  Fellows,  and  Noah  Davis.  The  hearing 


108  “not  guilty.” 

was  before  Recorder  Hackett.  The  court  room  was  crowded. 
Prominent  men  were  dragged  in  as  witnesses.  Horace  Greeley 
was  in  the  box;  so  were  Whitelaw  Reid,  Amos  J.  Cummings, 
Junius  Henri  Browne,  Fitz-Hugh  Ludlow,  William  Stuart,  man- 
ager of  the  ^Winter  Garden  Theatre ; F.  B.  Carpenter,  the  artist ; 
Samuel  Sinclair,  the  publisher  of  the  Tribmie , and  Oliver  Johnson. 
The  speeches  of  the  counsel  were  florid  and  eloquent.  Public  Curi- 
osity looked  eagerly  for  the  verdict.  After  the  jury  had  been  out 
two  hours,  it  came  : “ Not  guilty.”  Daniel  McFarland  wiped  the 
perspiration  from  his  brow,  and  walked  out  of  the  court  room  to 
breathe  a purer  and  freer  air. 

One  of  the  most  expert  forgers  in  the  country  made  a very 
clever  attempt  at  swindling  in  1871,  and,  when  discovered,  led  one 
of  the  detectives  in  the  office  on  a chase  which  included  thousands 
of  miles  and  covered  half  a continent.  The  circumstances  were 
these  : 

In  October  of  that  year,  a man  named  John  R.  Livingstone  was 
introduced  to  Mr.  Cyrus  G.  Clark,  a broker,  of  No.  3 Exchange 
Place,  by  Mr.  George  W.  Chadwick,  a dealer  in  real  estate.  The 
three  men  talked  together,  and  finally  Mr.  Clark  promised  to  buy 
for  Livingstone  $100,000  worth  of  bonds  from  Mr.  Goddard,  the 
treasurer  of  Wells,  Fargo  & Co.  Livingstone  paid  for  the  bonds, 
by  a check  on  Hallgarten  &.  Co.  for  $77,500.  He  took  them  to 
the  Commercial  Warehouse  Co.,  and  deposited  them  as  security 
for  two  checks  of  $25,000  each. 

Having  endorsed  the  checks,  Livingstone  handed  them  over  to. 
Mr.  Chadwick,  asking  him  to  go  to  Caldwell  & Co.,  at  No.  77  Wall 
Street,  and  get  them  cashed.  Chadwick  willingly  assented..  It  so 
happened  that  at  the  very  instant  Chadwick  entered  the  office  and 
presented  the  checks,  a Mr.  Gilman,  president  of  a railroad  in 
Alabama,  who  was  there  conversing  with  Mr.  Caldwell,  was  telling 
the  latter  how  nearly  he  had  escaped  being  swindled  by  a rascal 
named  Livingstone. 

“ Why  ! ” exclaimed  Mr.  Caldwell,  “ here  are  checks  payable  to 
the  very  John  R.  Livingstone  that  you  are  talking  about ! ” 

The  thought  naturally  occurred  to  both  men  that  the  checks 
were  forgeries.  A messenger  was  despatched  to  make  inquiries, 
but  it  was  found  there  was  nothing  wrong  about  the  checks  them- 
selves. Still  Mr.  Caldwell  hesitated  to  cash  them,  and  put  Chad, 
wick  off  with  some  trivial  excuse,  telling  him  to  call  on  the  next 


109 


11Q 


“ 1 TOLD  YOU  SO/’ 


day,  when  he  should  receive  for  the  checks  $30,000  in  Government 
bonds  and  $20,000  in  currency. 

At  the  appointed  time  Chadwick  was  there.  The  bonds  and 
the  bills  were  counted  out  and  he  started  to  put  the  money  in 
his  pocket.  Just  then  a messenger,  almost  breathless,  rushed 
into  Mr.  CaldwelPs  office  with  the  astounding  information  that 
Livingstone  was  a forger.  Mr.  Caldwell  started  as  if  shot.  Mr. 
Gilman  looked  as  if  he  wanted  to^say  “I  told  you  so,”  and  the 
real  estate  dealer  scarcely  knew  what  to  make  of  it.  Chadwick 
was  compelled,  however,  to  give  up  the  money,  and  immediately 
disappeared  from  the  office. 

It  was  singular  how  the  forgery  had  been  discovered.  On  the 
morning  that  Chadwick  was  to  receive  the  cash  for  the  two  checks, 
the  officers  of  the  Park  Bank  discovered  that  Hallgarten  & Co. 
had  overdrawn  their  account.  The  attention  of  the  firm  was 
called  to  the  fact  and  the  members  were  naturally  very  much  sur- 
prised. The  check  for  $77,500,  given  by  Livingstone  to  Mr.  God- 
dard, came  to  light.  No  one  knew  anything  about  it,  but  the  work 
upon  it  was  of  so  skilful  a character  that  the  firm  hesitated  at  first 
to  say  that  the  check  was  a forgery.  Nevertheless  it  was.  The 
bonds  purchased  with  it  were  found  at  the  office  of  the  Warehouse 
Company,  and  Mr.  CaldwelPs  office  was  reached  in  the  nick  of 
time  to  prevent  the  payment  of  the  money  to  Chadwick. 

Now  efforts  were  directed  to  catch  the  forger,  and  the  assistance 
of  the  police  was  asked.  Detective  Thomas  Sampson  was  assigned 
to  work  up  the  case.  Sampson  went  to  work  with  a will-,  and 
quickly  discovered  that  Livingstone  was  none  other  than  Louis  W. 
Van  Eeten,  already  notorious  in  this  department  of  crime. 

Chadwick  was  arrested  by  Sampson  just  as  the  former  was 
making  arrangements  for  a trip  to  Europe.  From  him  it  was 
learned  that  upon  the  discovery  of  the  forgery  he  had  gone  to  Van 
Eeten  and  informed  him  of  the  state  of  affairs.  Van  Eeten  swore 
that  Chadwick  had  played  him  false,  put  a pistol  to  the  latter’s 
head  and  forced  him  to  give  up  $1000,  which  was  all  the  money 
he  had.  Van  Eeten  took  flight. 

Then  began  a long  and  remarkable  chase  after  the  forger. 
Sampson  first  heard  that  he  was  in  San  Francisco.  There  Van 
Eeten  obtained  from  the  Bank  of  California  the  value  of  a $10,00 ct 
United  States  registered  bond,  which  had  been  stolen  from  Senor 
B.  Castillo.  In  San  Francisco  Van  Eeten  assumed  the  name  of 


A 3TKRN  CHASE. 


1 1 t 


Van  Tassell,  but  embarked  for  the  Isthmus  of  Panama  under 
the  name  of  Phillips.  Sampson  was  close  upon  his  heels,  but  did 
not  arrive  until  the  day  after  the  steamer  sailed.  At  Panama 
Van  Eeten  struck  out  at  once  for  Central  America.  Sampson 
still  tracked  his  footsteps.  Van  Eeten  then  tried  to  make  his 
way  to  Mexico,  but  gave  it  up  as  useless,  and  went  to  St.  Thomas ; 
thence  to  Havana,  and  from  there  to  New  Orleans.  He  put  up 
at  the  St.  Charles  Hotel  and  remained  there  for  several  days. 
By  the  lavish  manner  in  which  he  spent  his  money  at  the  bar, 
and  by  his  interesting  conversational  powers,  he  made  many 
friends.  He  knew,  however,  that  as  long  as  he  remained  on 
American  soil  he  was  liable  to  arrest,  should  he  be  recognized. 
He  therefore  settled  upon  Tampico  as  his  next  abiding  place. 
He  announced  his  intention  one  evening  to  leave  the  hotel  on 
the  next  morning,  and  was  busily  engaged  in  his  room,  packing 
his  trunk,  when  a stranger  entered  the  hotel  and  looked  over  the 
register. 

“ Is  Mr.  Phillips  in  his  room  ? ” he  asked. 

“ He  is,”  replied  the  clerk,  and  at  the  same  time  directed  a 
call-boy  to  conduct  the  stranger  to  Mr.  Phillips’s  apartment. 

Arrived  at  the  door,  the  boy  knocked,  and  a voice  replied : 

# “ Come  in.” 

The  stranger  entered.  The  occupant’s  back  was  towards  the 
door.  He  turned  his  head  to  greet  his  visitor,  and  then,  in  a ter- 
rified manner,  jumped  to  his  feet. 

“ Why ! Captain — ” he  gasped.  “ I never  expected  to  see 
you.” 

“ I don’t  suppose  you  did,”  was  the  reply  of  Detective  Samp- 
son, for  the  stranger  was  none  other  than  he,  while  Mr.  Phillips 
was  Louis  M.  Van  Eeten. 

This  ended  the  chase.  Van  Eeten  practically  admitted  his  guilt 
when  brought  back  to  New  York  and  tried.  He  was  sentenced 
to  ten  years’  imprisonment  in  Sing  Sing,  and  while  there  invented 
an  automatic  arrangement  by  which  a keeper  could  sit  in  his 
chair  at  one  end  of  a corridor  and  have  certain  knowledge 
whether  convicts  were  in  their  cells  or  not. 

One  Sunday  morning,  some  eight  years  afterwards,  immediately 
upon  his  release  from  prison — for  he  earned  a commutation  of 
his  sentence  by  good  conduct — Van  Eeten  called  at  Detective 
Sampson’s  house.  The  call  was  merely  a friendly  one,  Van  Eeten 


I 12 


BEFORE  THE  LAST  JUDGE. 


only  wishing  to  show  Sampson  that  he  entertained  no  ill  feeling 
towards  him  for  performing  his  duty.  Still  pursuing  the  line  of 
duty,  however,  Sampson  telegraphed  to  the  Bank  of  California  the 
fact  that  Van  Eeten  was  at  liberty,  and  the  next  day  there  came 
an  order  for  his  arrest  upon  a charge  of  stealing  the  $10,000 
United  States  registered  bond  in  San  Francisco.  Van  Eeten’s 
capture  was  easily  effected,  and  Sampson,  with  another  officer, 
took  him  to  Trenton,  N.  J.,  there  to  await  the  arrival  of  the 
requisite  documents  from  California.  Van  Eeten  took  his  re-arrest 
very  much  to  heart,  and  seemed  completely  broken  down. 

“ Never  mind,”  said  Sampson  to  him,  “ you’ll  have  an  easy 
judge  in  ’Frisco,  and  you  will  get  off  with  a light  sentence.” 

“That’s  all  very  well,”  Van  Eeten  replied,  “but  before  morn- 
ing I shall  go  before  the  best  judge  of  all.” 

And  he  did.  The  officers  slept  in  the  same  room  with  him, 
but  somehow  he  managed  to  swallow  a dose  of  laudanum.  Where 
he  obtained  the  drug  is  a mystery.  Despite  the  efforts  of  several 
medical  men  who  were  called  in,  the  unfortunate  man  never  re- 
gained his  senses  and  died  before  the  sun  had  risen. 


V 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  NATHAN  MURDER. — A TERRIBLE  NIGHT. — THE  TWO  BROTHERS. 
— A GHASTLY  SCENE. — TWELVE  BLOWS  WHICH  TOOK  A LIFE. — 
BLOODY  FINGER-MARKS  ON  THE  WALL. — FINDING  OF  THE  IRON 
“ DOG.” — MERCILESS  SUSPICIONS. — THE  HOUSEKEEPER’S  SON. — 
“ HIS  CLOTHES  DON’T  FIT  HIM.” — CLEANSING  THE  ROOM. — AN 
UNSOLVED  MYSTERY. 

The  month  of  July,  1870,  is  remembered  as  being  one  of  the 
most  glorious  months  of  that  most  enjoyable  summer.  The  days 
were  warm  with  a seasonable  warmth,  and  the  nights  were  cooled  by 
showers  and  eastern  breezes.  Just  previous  to  Independence 
Day,  Mr.  Benjamin  Nathan  had  left  his  business  affairs  on  Wall 
Street,  where  he  was  a broker  and  private  banker  of  great  fortune 
and  repute,  to  go  to  his  country-seat  at  Morristown,  New  Jersey. 
His  luxuriously  furnished  town  house  at  No.  12  West  Twenty- 
third  Street  had  been  given  over  to  upholsterers  and  decorators, 
to  be  refitted  for  the  autumn.  Once  or  twice  a week  it  was  Mr. 
Nathan’s  habit  to  visit  his  office,  confer  with  his  confidential  clerk 
about  the  light  financial  operations  of  the  summer,  call  at  his 
mansion  to  see  how  the  alterations  were  progressing  - and  then  to 
return  to  his  retreat. 

On  July  29  he  made  one  of  his  trips  to  the  city.  He  planned  to 
pass  the  night  at  his  up-town  house.  Chief  of  his  objects  in  doing 
this  was  to  make  a fast  day  of  the  succeeding  one,  the  anniversary 
of  his  mother’s  death.  He  intended  to  pass  the  morning  in 
prayer  at  the  synagogue  to  which  he  belonged.  He  found  his 
house  the  scene  of  disorder.  Not  a room  was  prepared  to  receive 
him,  as  Mrs.  Kelly,  the  housekeeper,  was  not  aware  of  his  inten- 
tion to  remain.  But  his  sons,  Frederick,  his  favorite,  and  Wash- 
ington, who  was  something  of  a scapegrace,  were  in  town  and  he 
expected  to  meet  them.  The  former  was  a broker  of  repute  like 
his  father ; the  latter  was  simply  a man  of  pleasure,  whose  pas- 
times were  a source  of  much  anxiety  to  his  venerable  father.  But 
Mr.  Nathan’s  patience  with  “ Wash,”  as  he  was  called  was  proof 

8 113 


THE  HALL  BEDROOM. 


114 

against  any  but  the  gravest  misdeeds,  and  on  the  night  of  the 
anniversary  of  his  mother’s  death  the  old  man  decided  once  more 
to  warn  his  erring  child. 

Early  in  the  evening  the  skies  in  the  west  began  to  darken,  and 
prospects  of  a storm  increased  as  the  night  progressed.  It  was 
cool,  and  a right  sort  of  time  for  the  charms  of  retrospection  to 
seize  upon  an  elderly  man.  In  a little  hall  bedroom  on  the 
second  floor  Mr.  Nathan  kept  his  family  papers,  and  as  the  senti- 
ment of  the  anniversary  he  was  about  to  celebrate  grew  upon  him, 
he  decided  to  look  over  these  familiar  archives  after  he  had  settled 
the  housekeeping  bills  of  the  month.  So  he  directed  Mrs.  Kelly 
to  arrange  a bed  of  mattresses  upon  the  floor  of  the  reception-room 
immediately  adjoining  his  little  office  room,  and  there  he  thought 
he  would  sleep  after  he  had  concluded  his  work.  The  old  gentle- 
man, after  his  bed  had  been  prepared,  passed  several  hours  in  his 
little  office  engaged  with  his  affairs.  There  were  mutterings  of 
thunder  without,  but  no  heed  was  paid  to  the  approaching  storm. 
As  the  hours  passed  footsteps  sounded  less  frequently  upon  the 
pavements,  and  then  the  old  man  began  to  wonder  why  his  sons 
did  not  return.  Fred  was  making  some  calls  among  those  of  his 
friends  who  were  still  in  the  city ; Wash  was  clinking  glasses  with 
men  of  questionable  repute  and  women  of  the  demi  monde. 

The  growling  of  the  storm  grew  more  distinct.  Lightning 
flashed,  but  yet  no  rain  fell.  The  anniversary  of  -his  mother’s 
death  grew  nearer,  and  after  gazing  affectionately  at  the  features 
of  his  beloved  parent,  which  were  disclosed  from  the  'case  of  a 
miniature,  Mr.  Nathan  replaced  the  case  in  a small  safe  which 
stood  in  the  corner  of  the  little  room,  locked  the  iron  door, 
dropped  the  keys  into  his  pocket  and  prepared  for  rest.  Within  an 
hour  after  he  had  retired,  or  just  before  midnight,  Fred  Nathan 
entered  the  house.  Passing  the  reception-room  he  entered  and, 
finding  his  father  still  awake,  chatted  with  him  for  a time  about 
“Wash,”  who  was  still  away  from  home,  and  then  kissing  his 
father  upon  the  forehead,  wished  him  good-night  and  retired  to 
his  bedroom.  Mr.  Nathan  watched  his  son  leave  the  room  with 
the  eagerness  of  a parent  who  is  sure  of  his  child’s  love.  A half- 
hour  afterwards,  it  is  said,  “Wash”  Nathan  entered  the  house, 
and  observing,  as  he  afterwards  declared,  his  father  sleeping 
peacefully  upon  his  bed  of  mattresses  went  to  his  room  on  an 
upper  floor. 


“ FOR  god’s  sake,  hurry  ! ” 


115 

At  midnight  the  storm  broke.  It  was  one  of  those  awful  mani- 
festations of  nature’s  power  which  frequently  occur  in  the  tropics, 
but  seldom  in  our  temperate  climate.  The  rain  fell  in  sheets  with 
a persistency  which  made  it  almost  impossible  for  a pedestrian  to 
withstand  their  force.  The  lightning  was  extremely  vivid,  and  the 
thun’der  followed  the  flashes  with  sharp  reports  that  resembled  the 
volleys  of  musketry  upon  a battle  field.  Patrolman  John  Mangam, 
of  the  Twenty-ninth  Precinct,  had  that  night  the  post  on  which 
the  Nathan  mansion  was  situated,  and  was  struggling  bravely 
against  the  storm.  He  saw  a light  flash  for  a moment  in  the 
windows  of  the  splendid  house  of  the  banker  millionaire,  and  then 
all  was  dark. 

The  day  dawned  bright  and  glorious.  The  terrible  storm  of 
the  night  had  passed.  The  sky  was  of  that  vivid  blue  which  our 
northern  hefavens  assume  after  a storm.  Mangam  passed  along 
Twenty-third  Street,  toward  Sixth  Avenue,  thinking  of  his  relief 
at  six  o’clock  and  of  those  at  home.  It  lacked  but  a few  minutes 
of  that  hour  when  he  was  walking  slowly  along  on  the  last  turn  of 
his  beat.  But,  hark  ! A voice,  even  at  a distance  vibrant  with 
terror,  calls  to  him. 

“ Officer  ! Officer  ! For  God’s  sake,  hurry ! ” 

Mangam  turned  right  about.  Away  up  the  street  toward  Fifth 
Avenue,  on  the  brown-stone  steps  of  their  home,  in  their  night- 
clothing, stood  Washington  and  Fred  Nathan,  the  latter  intensely 
excited,  and  the  former  pale  but  calm.  They  shouted  again  while 
Mangam  was  going  towards  them,  so  excitedly  that  he  began  to 
run,  and  went  up  the  steps  at  a dash.  While  he  was  uttering: 
“ What’s  the  matter,  gents  ? ” Fred  exclaimed  : 

“ Officer,  quick  ! My  father’s  been  murdered  ! ” 

Washington  chimed  in,  like  an  echo  : 

“ Father’s  lying  murdered  up  stairs.” 

Mangam  threw  down  his  water-proof,  went  to  the  street  railing 
and  struck  a vigorous  rap  on  the  sidewalk.  Without  waiting  to 
see  if  this  summons  for  assistance  was  answered,  he  rushed  up 
Tairs,  after  inquiring  of  the  “boys  ” if  they  suspected  anybody — 
i the  murderer  was  in  the  house.  He  was  told  where  the  mur- 
dered man  was.  Going  into  the  reception-room  and  turning  the 
pile  of  mattresses  aside,  he  saw  one  of  the  most  ghastly  spectacles 
that  ever  met  the  eye  of  a policeman. 

Lying  with  its  feet  on  the  threshold  of  the  little  hall  bedroom 


ii  6 


AN  UNSOLVED  MYSTERY. 


fearful  Work. 


ll7 

and  its  head  to  the  east  was  the  body  of  Benjamin  Nathan.  It 
was  lying  on  its  back,  with  the  left  leg  bent  up,  the  right  arm  ex- 
tended straight  above  the  head,  and  the  left  arm  by  the  side,  so 
covered  with  blood  that  the  corpse  resembled  a red  Irish  setter 
dog  asleep  more  than  a human  being.  Mangam  rushed  to  Mr. 
Nathan’s  side,  knelt  down  beside  him,  put  his  hand  on  his  breast 
and  exclaimed  to  Fred,  who  had  followed  him  up  stairs : 

“ Why,  he  can’t  be  dead  ! There’s  life  here  yet.” 

“ What  shall  I do  ? ” asked  Fred. 

“ Send  for  a doctor,  quick  ! ” was  Mangam’s  reply. 

Patrolman  Iheodore  Rowland  had  by  this  time  answered  the 
alarm  rap.  He  was  despatched  to  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel  for  a 
physician.  One  came  in  a few  minutes.  But  before  his  arrival 
Mangam  had  discovered  that  in  his  agitation  he  had  made  a mis- 
take. Mr.  Nathan’s  body  was  quite  cold,  and  when  the  doctor 
entered  he  told  him  the  man  was  dead.  There  was  in  fact  every 
indication  that  the  murdered  man  had  been  dead  for  three  hours 
or  more.  Little  blood  remained  that  was  not  coagulated  or  en- 
tirely dry. 

As  soon  as  the  doctor  arrived,  Mangam  went  to  the  front  door 
and  told  the  Nathan  boys  that  while  he  regretted  it  very  much  it 
was  his  duty,  under  the  circumstances,  to  take  complete  charge  of 
the  house  and  not  permit  any  one  to  leave  the  premises.  He  then 
despatched  Patrolman  Rowland  to  the  Twenty-ninth  Precinct 
Station  with  a request  that  Captain  Henry  Burden  should  visit  the 
scene  of  the  murder.  This  the  latter  did  within  half  an  hour.  He 
commended  Mangam  for  what  he  had  done,  and  remarked  that  he 
seemed  to  know  his  duty  so  well  that  he  might  remain  in  charge 
of  the  house  for  the  remainder  of  the  day.  Captain  Burden  set 
the  machinery  of  justice  in  operation  by  placing  his  ward  detec- 
tives on  the  case  and  notifying  Superintendent  John  Jourdan  and 
Chief  Detective  James  J.  Kelso. 

After  the  news  of  the  murder  had  been  telegraphed  to  police 
headquarters  detectives  arrived  in  a short  time.  They  had  seen  the 
results  of  many  bloody  quarrels  and  self-inflicted  injuries,  but  had 
never  witnessed  a bloodier  scene,  or  greater  evidences  of  a terrible 
and  determined  struggle  for  life  on  the  part  of  a victim.  Hardly 
had  they  regained  their  self-possession  when  Chief  Jourdan  and 
Captain  of  Detectives  Kelso  entered  the  room,  and  they,  too,  were 
appalled  at  what  they  saw — Jourdan  especially  so.  He  looked  at 


1 18 


HAND-PRINTS  ON  THE  WALLS. 


the  body,  cast  a glance  round  the  room,  gazed  upon  the  crimson 
evidences  of  the  struggle  and  became  as  white  as  a marble  statue. 
His  voice  faltered  as  he  called  out  to  Kelso,  “ Come  here,”  and 
the  two  retired  to  a corner  of  the  room  to  discuss  the  tragedy. 

On  Mr.  Nathan’s  body  were  the  marks  of  eleven  or  twelve  dis- 
tinct blows,  evidently  inflicted  with  an  instrument,  and  that  a blunt 
one.  There  were  four  wounds  on  the  head,  two  of  which  were  each 
sufficient  to  cause  immediate  death.  It  is  certain  that  Benjamin 
Nathan  was  not  conscious  after  he  received  the  first  of  them. 
Upon  his  right  hand  were  the  marks  of  two  crushing  blows,  suffi- 
cient to  break  three  of  the  fingers  and  fracture  the  knuckles. 
There  were  five  other  marks  of  the  instrument  used  upon  his  arms, 
breast  and  back. 

The  body  lay  in  a pool  of  blood,  three  by  four  feet  in  extent, 
surrounded  by  blotches  and  smaller  pools.  Everything  pointed  to 
a struggle  having  taken  place  in  the  doorway,  between  the  room 
in  which  he  had  laid  down  to  rest  and  the  little  hall  bedroom,  or 
office.  The  most  desperate  struggle  evidently  occurred  in  the 
angle  formed  by  the  west  and  front  walls.  Here,  covering  a space 
of  four  by  three  feet,  were  gouts,  blotches  and  smears  of 
olood,  and  the  imprint  of  bloody  fingers.  One  set  of  these  finger- 
marks was  as  distinct  as  though  the  person  whose  hand  had 
touched  the  wall  had  purposely  dipped  his  hand  in  blood  and 
placed  it  there.  The  other  set  differed  greatly  from  the  hand  of  ' 
the  murdered  man,  and  was  long  and  lady-like,  with  well-kept 
fingers — in  short,  that  of  a gentleman. 

Where  the  fatal  blow  was  struck  was  clearly  and  accurately  de- 
fined. There  was  a smear  on  the  wall,  as  if,  when  struggling  hand- 
to-hand  with  his  assailant,  old  Mr.  Nathan  received  a crushing 
blow  and  pitched  headlong  to  the  floor. 

He  could  have  been  safely  left  there  by  the  murderer,  but  who- 
ever he  may  have  been,  he  evidently  did  not  think  so.  This  is 
proved  by  the  fact  of  the  body  being  found  a distance  of  four  feet 
from  the  smear  on  the  wall  alluded  to.  It  was  evident  that 
another  blow  was  dealt,  apparently  with  a view  of  making  sure  of 
the  old  man’s  death  and  thus  avoiding  the  possibility  of  the  story 
of  the  crime  ever  coming  from  his  lips. 

A thorough  examination  of  the  room  revealed  little  or  nothing 
that  was  of  value  to  the  police.  It  was  apparent  that  whoever 
kib>?d  old  Mr.  Nathan  also  committed  robbery,  either  to  make  it 


THE  “DOG.” 


ng 


appear  that  the  crime  was  the  work  of  a thief,  or  to  secure  enough 
money  with  which  to  leave  the  city.  The  murdered  man’s  keys 
had  been  taken  from  his  pocket,  whether  before  or  after  his  death 
is,  of  course,  not  known.  The  safe  in  the  private  office  had  been 
unlocked.  This  was  a somewhat  peculiar  circumstance,  as  the 
safe  was  so  situated  that  even  an  expert  burglar,  if  a stranger, 
could  hardly  have  discovered  its  existence.  From  it  had  been 
taken  a wooden  receptacle,  or  trunk,  which  contained  several  rare 
old  gold,  silver  and  copper  coins,  of  value  only  to  collectors. 
When  the  murder  was  discovered  the  wooden  receptacle  in  ques- 
tion was  on  the  pile  of  mattresses,  and  the  coins  missing.  The 
safe  itself  had  been  rifled.  In  it  Mr.  Nathan  generally  kept  the 
money  for  housekeeping  purposes.  This  never  amounted  to  less 
than  $100,  and  often  reached  as  high  as  $600  or  $700.  There 
were  also  missing  some  cherished  family  trinkets,  valuable  to  a 
thief  only  as  old  gold.  Upon  the  desk  in  the  office  was  a partly 
written  check,  which,  it  was  afterwards  explained,  was  to  have 
been  drawn  in  payment  of  a stock  transaction.  In  the  room 
where  the  body  lay,  the  murderer  secured  a Jurgensen  watch  and 
chain,  worth  about  $600,  and  three  diamond  studs.  That  these 
studs  were  taken  after  the  murder  was  committed  is  indisputable, 
as  bloody  finger-marks  were  found  on  Mr.  Nathan’s  shirt.  In  the 
basin  in  the  bath-room  was  found  bloody  water,  as  if  the  mur- 
derer had  washed  his  hands  before  leaving  the  house.  The 
assassin  had  not  apparently  explored  any  other  part  of  the  dwell- 
ing, or  even  ventured  into  the  passage  leading  to  the  apartment 
of  the  housekeeper,  Mrs.  Kelly. 

While  Patrolman  Mangam  was  waiting  at  the  street  door  for 
the  arrival  of  Captain  Burden,  young  Fred  Nathan,  who  was  with 
him,  suddenly  stooped,  exclaiming : 

“ Here’s  something.” 

The  “ something  ” proved  to  be  an  iron  bar,  about  twenty  inches 
long.  It  was  smeared  with  blood,  and  there  were  a few  gray  hairs 
on  it.  That  this  was  the  instrument  with  which  the  awful  deed 
was  committed  there  could  be  no  doubt.  It  was  what  is  known 
among  ship-carpenters  and  lumbermen  as  a “ dog,”  a bar  of  one- 
inch  wrought  iron  with  the  two  ends  turned  up. 

The  whole  community  was  startled  by  the  news  of  the  tragedy. 
The  excitement  was  not  confined  to  New  York.  The  press  of  the 


120 


“ WASH.”  NATHAN. 


entire  country  commented  upon  it,  and  with  one  voice  called  on 
the  authorities  to  discover  the  perpetrator  of  the  crime. 

When  the  real  work  of  the  detectives  began  they  were  con- 
fronted by  a great  many  obstacles.  The  first  and  greatest  was 
the  intense  interest  manifested  in  it  by  the  Hebrew  community. 
Foremost  among  those  who  looked  after  the  interests  of  the  late 
Mr.  Nathan  and  his  family  were  ex-Judge  Cardozo  and  Mr.  Eman- 
uel B.  Hart.  It  is  unfortunate  for  Mr.  Nathan’s  children  that  the 
mystery  enshrouding  the  crime  has  never  been  cleared  up,  because 
suspicion — justly  or  unjustly — still  attaches  to  one  of  the  members 
of  his  family.  Possibly  those  who  sought  to  divert  this  suspicion 
knew  how  in  some  cases  circumstantial  evidence  might  err,  and 
were  unwilling  that  the  slightest  misfortune,  neglect,  or  false 
evidence  should  put  the  neck  of  the  suspected  individual  in  jeop- 
ardy. The  first  care  of  the  detectives  was  to  inform  themselves 
as  to  the  movements,  habits  and  character  of  the  persons  who 
slept  in  the  house  the  night  of  the  murder ; those  who  knew  its 
ins  and  outs,  or  who  had  the  slightest  motive  for  killing  Mr. 
Nathan.  In  this  they  were  at  first  merciless.  It  was  generally 
known  that  Mr.  Nathan  did  not  regard  Washington  as  he  did  his 
other  sons.  “ Wash  ” had  been  rebellious,  dissipated,  heedless, 
and  had  fallen  so  much  under  the  ban  of  his  father’s  displeasure 
that  when  the  old  gentleman’s  will  was  read  it  was  found  to  be 
particularly  harsh  in  his  regard.  It  practically  disinherited  him. 

When  Patrolman  Mangam  first  saw  the  two  brothers  on  the 
stoop,  he  noticed  that  Fred’s  shirt-front  and  socks  were  bloody. 
This  was  easily  explained.  Finding  his  father  dead,  he  had 
thrown  himself  on  the  body,  after  wading  in  the  blood  which  sur- 
rounded it.  Washington  Nathan  had  exhibited  no  such  emotion, 
and  in  addition  some  one  interested  in  the  family  had  taken  pre- 
cautions which  afterwards  increased  the  suspicion  against  him. 
His  demeanor  was  not  that  of  a dutiful  son  suddenly  and  terribly 
bereaved.  For  a whole  week  after  the  murder  he  wore  a handker- 
chief, so  arranged  as  to  conceal  his  neck.  The  stories  told  of  his 
life  and  associates  were  such  as  to  cause  the  police,  if  not  to  put 
him  in  the  position  of  a prisoner,  to  place  him  under  the  sur- 
veillance of  friends,  who  pledged  themselves  to  produce  him  at 
the  inquest. 

Stress  has  been  laid  on  the  fact  that  on  the  night  before  the 
murder  Washington  Nathan  was  not  in  proper  company,  but  this 


CRANKS  AND  THEORIES. 


21 


is  worthy  of  but  slight  consideration.  Still,  it  is  true  he  was  at  a 
resort  in  Fourteenth  Street,  near  Fourth  Avenue,  from  an  early 
hour  Thursday  evening  up  to  the  time  when  he  started  to  walk 
home.  His  companion  that  evening  was  a fallen  woman,  of  great 
beauty,  who  afterwards  went  the  way  of  all  such  unfortunates. 
The  inquest  held  by  Coroner  Rollins  shortly  afterwards  released 
Washington  Nathan,  and  for  the  time  held  back  the  tide  of  sus- 
picion against  him. 

The  police  were  encouraged  in  every  way  to  discover  the  mur- 
derer. Rewards  were  offered  by  the  Stock  Exchange,  the  munici- 
pality, the  Israelites  of  the  city  and  friends  of  the  dead  man — ag- 
gregating more  than  $45,000.  As  usual  in  such  cases,  the  police 
were  hampered  by  cranks  and  that  class  of  practical  jokers  who  ap- 
pear, in  such  an  emergency,  to  take  delight  in  leading  the  detectives 
astray.  Why,  within  the  three  weeks  succeeding  the  murder  Super- 
intendent Jourdan  received  at  least  500  letters  from  all  parts  of  the 
country,  proffering  advice,  venting  suspicions  and  giving  “clews.” 

When  the  inquest  was  over,  the  action  of  those  in  authority  on 
the  police  force  was  strongly  commented  upon.  They  appeared  to 
have  failed  utterly  in  making  one  step  towards  lifting  the  veil  which 
concealed  the  identity  of  the  criminal.  Half-a-dozen  arrests  were 
made,  and  all  sorts  of  plans  were  adopted  to  establish  a reasonable 
theory.  Some  of  the  able  detectives  engaged  on  the  case  insisted 
that  it  was  what  is  known  as  an  “inside  job,”  without  the  slightest 
reference  to  the  possibility  of  a member  of  Mr.  Nathan’s  family 
having  committed  the  crime.  Others  said  it  was  a “ stow-away  ” ; 
the  instrument  used  was  that  of  a “duffer  ” ; no  professional  crimi- 
nal, they  argued,  would  have  carried  such  a tool  into  a house,  and, 
as  a matter  of  fact,  such  an  instrument  would  have  been  useless  to 
break  open  a drawer  in  a mahogany  cabinet.  Still  others  came  to 
the  conclusion  that  it  was  a first-class,  professional,  “second  story 
job,”  marks  on  the  pillars  of  the  portico  being  pointed  out  as  proof. 

Those  who  held  to  the  theory  that  it  was  an  “ inside  job,”  pointed 
at  William  Kelly,  the  son  of  the  housekeeper,  as  the  guilty  man. 
The  adherents  of  the  “stow-away”  theory  had  a long,  weary,  and 
fruitless  hunt  among  the  seven  thousand  or  more  professional 
and  unprofessional  bummers  of  New  York,  each  of  whom  was  ca- 
pable of  committing  the  crime,  supposing,  as  was  not  the  case,  that 
the  front  door  had  been  left  open. 

own  personal  belief  is  that  William  Kelly,  the  son  of  the 


122 


“his  clothes  don’t  fit  him.” 


housekeeper,  admitted  confederates  into  the  house  with  a view 
robbing  the  safe ; that  they  succeeded  in  getting  the  key  and  o, 
ing  it,  and  in  doing  so  aroused  Mr.  Nathan,  who  engaged  ii. 
struggle  which  ended  in  his  death.  He  must  have  recognize 
young  Kelly,  and  this  made  it  necessary,  in  order  to  insure  ti 
safety  of  the  party,  to  close  the  old  man’s  mouth  forever.  Ti, 
explains  the  many  unnecessary  blows  inflicted  on  the  body.  Sin. 
the  murder  it  has  been  shown  that  Kelly  was  the  associate  of  thieve 
and  he  has  never  satisfactorily  explained  his  whereabouts  on  tha 
eventful  night. 

Among  those  arrested  on  suspicion  was  George  Ellis,  a burglar, 
who  was  brought  down  from  Sing  Sing  on  the  supposition  that  he 
was  possessed  of  valuable  secrets  in  regard  to  a man  who  had  been 
“ named  ” by  the  police  as  having  committed  the  murder.  Ellis 
was  kept  under  guard  in  the  Sixth  Precinct  Station  for  more 
than  three  months,  a man  being  detailed  to  watch  him  day  and 
night.  One  of  these  men  was  Detective  Patrick  Dolan,  of  the 
Central  Office,  to  whom  Ellis  remarked  one  day  : 

“Pat,  Jourdan  (the  superintendent)  is  going  to  die,  and  I’m  a 
goin’  back  to  State’s  Prison.  Isn’t  it  too  bad  ? ” 

“How  do  you  know  that?”  Dolan  inquired. 

“ Well — his  clothes  don’t  fit  him.” 

That  was  Ellis’s  gauge  of  Superintendent  Jourdan,  who  did, 
in  fact,  die  shortly  afterwards.  From  the  day  after  the  Nathan 
tragedy  Jourdan  seemed  to  pine  away,  and  never,  apparently,  re- 
gained his  old  familiar  air.  Was  he  in  possession  of  an  awful 
secret  ? 

There  were  other  persons  arrested,  namely,  Hayes,  John  T.  Irv- 
ing (who  “ confessed  ” in  order  to  be  brought  from  San  Francisco 
to  New  York  free  of  charge),  and  Robert  Kipling.  Each  arrest 
furnished  a certain  amount  of  news  for  the  papers  and  that  was  all 
that  came  of  it.  There  was  much  ado  made  concerning  the  dis- 
position made  of  the  room  in  which  Mr.  Nathan  died,  shortly  after 
the  discovery  of  the  crime;  also  concerning  “Wash”  Nathan’s 
clothing.  The  story  told  concerning  the  latter  was  that  a myste- 
rious bundle  of  bloody  articles  was  smuggled  out  of  the  house  be- 
fore noon  on  the  day  of  the  murder.  Yet  with  more  than  $45,000 
ready  to  be  given  to  them  in  case  of  their  success,  and  at  their  dis- 
posal to  trace  the  crime,  the  detectives  were  unable  to  cajole  or 
frighten  the  washerwoman  who  received  the  bundle  into  disclosing 


DISPOSITION  OF  THE  ROOM, 


123 


its  contents.  The  story  01  the  disposition  of  the  room  is  startling. 
Before  dusk  on  the  day  of  the  murder,  and  shortly  after  Benjamin 
Nathan’s  mutilated  body  had  been  laid  out  in  state  in  the  hand- 
some parlor  of  his  residence,  the  carpet  of  the  reception-room  was 
on  its  way  to  a cleaner’s  establishment  and  every  blood-stain  on 
the  walls  was  removed. 


JOHN  JOURDAN. 


The  story  of  the  Nathan  murder  remains  the  greatest  mystery  of 
the  age.  “ Murder  will  out,”  they  say.  If  this  be  true,  the  query, 
“ Who  killed  Benjamin  Nathan  ? ” will  one  day  be  answered.  Men 
yet  living,  who  were  young  and  vigorous  when  it  occurred,  have 
never  lost  sight  of  it,  and  will  never  give  up  the  search  so  long  as 
they  are  capable  of  continuing  it. 


124 


A DESIRABLE  EXPERIMENT. 


Some  day  the  police  may  “ revive  ” the  murder ; they  have  come 
near  doing  it  more  than  once.  They  should  “ revive  ” it  in  justice 
to  Benjamin  Nathan’s  memory  and  to  his  suspected  son.  They 
came  near  doing  it  not  very  long  ago. 

Washington  Nathan  did  not  reform  when  his  father  died.  His 
associations  became  worse  instead  of  better.  He  not  only  asso- 
ciated with  gamblers,  but  was  a companion  of  one  of  the  most 
notorious  of  this  city — “ Philo  ” Fields — on  West  Twenty-second 
Street,  between  Seventh  and  Eighth  avenues.  His  liaisons  became 
public  and  disgraceful.  By  one  woman  with  whom  he  associated 
his  life  was  threatened  in  a fit  of  jealousy,  and  he  was  afterwards 
shot  at  by  her  in  the  Coleman  House.  A curious. experiment  might 
have  been  tried  on  Mr.  Washington  Nathan  at  this  time.  His  in- 
juries by  the  bullets  were  such  as  to  make  a certain  operation  almost 
inevitable.  Had  such  an  operation  been  performed  it  is  possible 
that  a well-known  physician  of  this  city  would  have  been  taken 
into  consultation.  He  has  declared  that  in  such  an  event  it  would 
have  been  necessary  to  employ  an  anaesthetic.  One  would  have 
been  used  which  would  first  have  placed  the  patient  in  a state  of 
stupor,  then  in  a condition  of  anaesthetic  inebriety,  and  lastly  in  a 
state  of  coma.  In  returning  to  consciousness  the  patient  would 
have  passed  into  the  inebriate  stage  again.  The  physician  in  ques- 
tion, an  expert  in  anaesthetics,  knew,  as  all  first-class  practitioners 
do,  that  in  this  inebriate  condition  the  patient  is  incapable  of  re- 
taining a secret.  fhe  physician,  had  he  been  called  in,  would 
have  determined  to  either  clear  Washington  Nathan,  for  whose 
family  he  had  the  greatest  regard,  or  satisfy  himself  of  his  guilt. 
He  proposed,  when  the  patient  should  be  in  the  inebriate  stage, 
to  question  him  in  such  a deft  manner  as  to  rapidly  ascertain 
whether  he  slew  his  father,  or  was  innocent.  He  would  have  re- 
peated the  questions  at  the  second  inebriate  stage ; and  he  would 
have  left  the  chamber  of  the  patient  convinced  one  way  or  the 
other. 

The  operation  was  not  performed,  and  the  opportunity  was  not 
afforded  the  physician  of  making  the  desired  test. 

Mr.  Nathan,  in  later  years,  married  the  daughter  of  Colonel  J. 
H.  Mapleson,  a widow  of  high  social  standing.  The  last  heard 
of  “ Wash  ” was  that  he  was  seriously  ill  in  Europe. 

Was  the  secret  of  the  Nathan  murder  too  awful  a one  for  such  a 
man  as  John  Jourdan  to  keep?  From  the  day  of  Nathan’s  death, 


WHO  KILLED  BENJAMIN  NATHAN?  ' 125 

Jourdan  failed.  He  never  made  a step  in  advance,  and  died  a few 
months  afterwards. 

The  “ dog  ” with  which  the  crime  was  committed  disappeared 
during  Mr.  Kelso’s  administration  ; and  the  one  among  the  relics 
of  crime  at  the  Central  Office  is  only  a fae  simile . 


CHAPTER  X. 


THE  “SAWDUST”  SWINDLE. — A BROKER  DUPED. — THE*  BOGUS  DE- 
TECTIVE.— MOCK  AUCTIONS. — FLANNEL  AND  HOT  WATER. — WITH 
A BIBLE  IN  HIS  HAND. — A HORSEY  GO-BETWEEN.  , 

The  “ Sawdust”  swindle  is  so  termed  because  the  victim  gets  a 
box  filled  with  sawdust,  instead  of  the  counterfeit  money  he  ex- 
pected. A large  number  of  printed  circulars  are  sent  throughout 
the  country  by  the  swindler.  Sometimes  he  advertises  his  wares, 
addressing  “ country  merchants  in  trouble,”  and  inviting  them 
to  write  to  him,  as  he  can  give  “ assistance  to  those  financially 
embarrassed,  on  the  most  favorable  terms.”  Of  course  he  gets 
many  answers,  and  is  thus  provided  with  an  excellent  list  of  names 
to  use  in  his  operations.  He  informs  his  prospective  victim  that 
he  has  a large  quantity  of  “green  goods”  (counterfeit  money)  of 
different  denominations,  which  he  will  sell  at  a great  discount. 
He  invites  a visit  to  the  city  for  inspection.  In  one  of  the  many 
circulars  which  fell  into  my  hands,  $3000  in  “ green  goods  ” was 
offered  for  $ 200  in  good  cash;  $5000  for  $300,  $8000  for  $400, 
$15,000  for  $600,  and  so  on  in  proportion.  Of  course  the  person 
addressed,  if  he  be  dishonest,  concludes  that  he  has  a good  chance 
to  make  money,  and  has  an  interview  with  his  correspondent.  He 
is  shown  what  are  said  to  be  specimens  of  the  counterfeits,  but 
which,  in  reality,  have  just  been  obtained  from  the  bank.  If  he 
has  any  doubts  about  being  able  to  pass  this  money,  he  and  the 
“ operator  ” take  some  of  it  and  purchase  articles  at  a neighboring 
store.  It  is  accepted  without  a word,  and  the  countryman  is  satis- 
fied. He  concludes  to  take  a certain  amount.  The  counterfeits 
are  to  be  sent  by  express,  “ as  it  would  be  dangerous  for  him  to 
carry  so  much  of  the  stuff  on  his  person.”  The  victim  goes  away 
perfectly  satisfied,  with  bright  pictures  of  the  manner  in  which  he 
will  enjoy  himself  when  he  gets  home.  A box  arrives,  “ C.  O.  D.” 
He  pays  the  charges  and  carries  it  to  a quiet  corner  in  the  hay-loft, 
where,  away  from  other  eyes  than  his  own,  he  opens  the  box  and 
finds  it  filled  usually  with  sawdust.  Sometimes  a little  green 

126 


SAWDUST  AND  GOLD  BRICKS. 


127 


paper  is  thrown  in  by  way  of  variety.  The  farmer  feels  like  kick- 
ing himself  all  round  the  cow-yard,  while  the  swindler  and  his  con- 
federates in  the  city  are  asking : “ What  are  you  going  to  do 
about  it  ? ” The  answer  is,  “ Nothing.”  The  would-be  swindler 
has  been  swindled.  He  must  bear  with  it,  or  else  risk  the  ex- 
posure which  would  result  if  he  complained. 

The  Davis-Holland  murder  case,  in  which  the  former  was  shot, 
furnishes  a good  illustration  of  the  way  in  which  the  “sawdust 
swindle  ” is  operated,  though  with  some  slight  variations  in  the 
procedure. 

A clever  trick  is  the  “gold  brick”  swindle.  Some  wealthy  bus- 
iness man  is  selected  by  the  swindlers,  who  approach  him  with  a 
plausible  story  concerning  a solid  brick  of  gold  which  they  have 
in  their  possession,  and  which  they  will  part  with  for  a very  small 
sum,  for  certain  reasons  they  don’t  care  to  have  known.  They 
give  the  impression  that  they  have  come  by  it  in  an  underhand 
manner.  The  usual  tests  of  the  gold  are  made  with  satisfactory 
results,  and  a bargain  is  struck.  The  money  is  paid,  and  then  the 
victim  discovers  that  the  supposed  gold  brick  is  made  of  brass. 
A corner  has  been  chipped  off  the  baser  metal  and  pure  gold  sub- 
stituted. This  is  what  is  tested,  and  the  wealthy  business  man 
is  “out”  the  amount  he  paid  for  the  brick. 

Of  the  innumerable  cases  of  fraud  which  have  come  under  my 
observation,  I do  not  recall  any  more  cleverly  arranged  and  car- 
ried out  than  the  one  I now  relate.  A man  visited  a broker’s 
office  on  Chatham  Street,  and  showed  several  ounces  of  gold  dust 
as  a sample.  He  offered  it  for  sale,  representing  that  it  was  only  a 
small  part  of  a large  quantity  which  he  had.  As  it  came  into  his 
possession  in  a somewhat  peculiar  manner,  he  did  not  care  to  sell 
it  all  at  once.  He  was  not  only  willing,  but  anxious  to  have  the 
sample  assayed  without  any  delay,  so  that  its  real  value  should 
be  determined.  If  it  proved  to  be  all  right,  a price  was  to  be 
named  for  the  remainder.  To  this  the  broker  agreed,  and  his 
caller  left. 

A few  minutes  later  the  broker  noticed  a small  handbill  upon 
the  floor  of  his  office,  in  which  a reward  of  $ 1000  was  offered  for 
the  recovery  of  a large  quantity  of  gold  dust  which  had  been 
stolen.  The  man  who  had  just  left  him,  the  broker  thought,  was 
the  thief,  or,  at  any  rate,  knew  where  the  stolen  dust  was.  Being 
a man  of  considerable  reputation  he  would  not  be  suspected  of 


128 


I MUST  ARREST  YOU.” 

complicity,  even  if  he  bought  it.  He  could  get  the  gold  at  his 
own  price ; the  man  would  not  dare  say  a word  for  fear  of  being 
arrested.  But  was  the  sample  genuine  gold  ? An  assayer  was 
visited  and  his  report  was  favorable — the  dust  was  gold,  indeed. 

A day  or  two  passed,  and  the  owner  of  the  dust  again  visited 
the  brokers  office.  This  time  he  was  greeted  in  a pleasant 
manner,  and  the  broker  signified  his  willingness  to  take  all  the 
dust  that  he  had,  provided  they  could  agree  upon  the  price.  The 
broker  offered  $10  an  ounce.  His  visitor  laughed  and  said  : 

“ Fifteen ; not  a cent  less.” 

“ Nonsense,  my  dear  fellow.  Look  here.  That  dust  of  yours 
was  stolen  and  I know  it.  Why,  here  is  the  very  handbill  offering 
a reward  of  $1000  for  the  recovery  of  that  gold  dust  (holding  up 
the  piece  of  paper  which  he  had  found  on  the  floor  of  his  office). 
However^  I won’t  be  hard  on  you.  I’ll  give  you  $12  an  ounce  and 
you  can  take  that  or  nothing.” 

The  visitor  was  very  naturally  much  alarmed  at  the  turn  affairs 
had  taken,  and  managed  to  say  : 

“ All  right.  You  can  have  the  stuff,  but  I won’t  bring  it  here. 
Meet  me  at ,”  naming  a retired  spot  up  town. 

Provided  with  a pair  of  small  steelyards,  gauged  for  weighing 
sixteen  ounces  to  the  pound,  the  broker  went  to  the  appointed 
place.  His  unknown  visitor  was  there,  and  produced  a quantity 
of  the  gold  dust.  In  the  shadow  of  a dimly-lighted  alley-way  the 
broker  produced  his  steelyard,  the  dust  was  weighed  and  the 
money  paid. 

If  the  broker  had  been  a little  less  intent  upon  the  business  in 
hand,  and  had  glanced  across  the  street,  he  might  have  noticed  a 
short,  thick-set  man  who  was  watching  the  whole  transaction  with 
considerable  interest.  But  the  broker  didn’t  look  in  that  direction, 
and  so  didn’t  see  this  third  person.  Steelyards  and  gold  dust 
were  securely  in  his  possession,  his  coat  was  buttoned,  and  he 
had  turned  to  leave  the  alley-way,  the  individual  from  whom  he 
had  made  the  purchase  having  left  in  a hurry. 

At  this  moment,  the  watcher  from  over  the  way  stepped  up  to 
the  broker,  and  accosted  him  with  the  information  that  he  was  an 
officer.  The  broker's  knees  trembled  under  him. 

“You  are  just  the  man  I’ve  wanted  for  a long  time.  That  gold 
you  have  is  stolen,  and  a reward  of  $1000  has  been  offered  for  its 
recovery.  I must  arrest  you.” 


9 


A BITh-R  BITTEN. 


129 


3° 


WHAT  ASSAY  SHOWED. 


“ For  God’s  sake,  don’t  expose  me,”  cried  the  now  thoroughly 
frightened  broker.  “ I shall  be  ruined  if  you  do.  Come  with  me 
to  my  office,  and  see  if  we  can’t  arrange  this  thing.” 

“ Can’t  do  it,”  was  the  short,  stem  reply  of  his  captor.  “ You’ll 
have  to  go  with  me.” 

The  broker  pleaded  hard,  and  the  detective  finally  relented,  and 
accompanied  him  to  his  office,  where  $1000  was  paid  to  the  latter, 
on  condition  that  the  matter  should  be  allowed  to  drop.  It  was  a 
heavy  blow  to  the  broker,  who  had  congratulated  himself  upon 
having  made  a remarkably  good  bargain.  But  he  consoled  himself 
with  the  thought  that  he  still  had  the  gold  dust,  sixteen  ounces  to 
the  pound,  whereas  he  could  sell  it  at  twelve  ounces. 

He  sent  the  gold  to  an  assayer,  but  imagine  his  rage  and  conster- 
nation when  it  was  reported  to  him  that  it  was  not  gold  at  all — 
simply  very  fine  brass  filings,  some  of  which  were  covered  with  a 
thin  wash  of  the  precious  metal. 

I was  in  charge  of  the  detective  force  at  the  time,  and  the  dis- 
comfited broker  called  upon  me.  He  had,  he  said,  a very  serious 
complaint  to  make.  He  had  purchased  a large  quantity  of  gold 
dust,  and  on  sending  it  to  an  assayer  it  turned  out  to  be  brass. 
During  my  long  experience  with  brokers  I had  always  found  them 
to  be  extremely  shrewd  and  careful  in  their  transactions,  and  it 
struck  me  as  very  strange  that  he  should  not  have  ascertained 
wdiether  the  dust  w7as  genuine  or  not  before  purchasing.  Of  course 
I listened  attentively  to  his  story,  and  by  close  questioning  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  from  him  a pretty  full  description  of  the  man 
from  whom  he  had  bought  the  dust.  It  tallied  with  that  of  a well- 
known  confidence  man,  and  I had  him  arrested. 

The  story  he  told  was  very  different  from  that  of  the  broker. 
He  admitted  being  the  individual  wrho  had  played  the  trick  on  the 
broker,  and  that  he  had  dropped  the  bogus  handbill  on  the  floor 
of  the  office  for  the  purpose  of  misleading  him.  The  detective 
wffio  had  arrested  the  broker  was  no  detective  at  all.  He  w^as  a 
confederate.  The  police  justice  before  wdiom  the  case  vTas  tried 
had  no  alternative  but  to  discharge  the  sharper.  The  broker,  I 
afterwards  discovered,  was  a thorough-paced  rascal,  who  only  got 
his  deserts. 

In  my  time  I have  been  acquainted  with  many  brokers,  and  my 
relations  with  them,  as  a whole,  have  been  very  pleasant.  It  is 
not  unusual  for  them  to  be  asked  for  quotations  on  bonds  or  other 


BONDS,  BIDS  AND  BARGAINS. 


I ' I 


securities  which  have  been  stolen.  In  such  cases,  an  honest 
broker  loses  no  time  in  informing  the  police.  But  sharp  and  su  - 
picious  as  some  brokers  are,  they  are  occasionally  swindled  by  a 
method  differing  very  little  from  the  “ sawdust  ” game.  A man 
goes  to  a broker,  and  pulling  out  of  his  pocket  a bundle  of  what 
are  apparently  bonds,  takes  one  from  the  package  and  asks  the 
broker  to  name  its  value.  The  broker  examines  it  carefully,  finds 
it  is  genuine  and  mentions  the  price. 

“ Well,”  says  the  visitor,  “ I have  fifteen  or  twenty  just  like  that. 
They  belong  to  a friend  of  mine,  and  I think  he  would  be  inclined 
to  sell  them  at  a bargain — something  under  the  regular  price. 
I’ll  see  him  about  it,  and  call  again  in  a day  or  two.” 

This  is  only  a way  of  finding  out  whether  the  broker  is  honest  or 
not.  If  he  is  not  he  may  be  caught  in  the  trap,,  for  the  man  is  sure 
to  make  a second  call,  and  an  arrangement  is  made  to  have  the 
transfer  of  the  money  and  the  bonds  take  place  in  the  streets. 
And  a sorry  transfer  it  is  for  the  broker.  The  “ bonds  ” turn  out 
to  be  nothing  more  than  nicely  folded  sheets  of  tissue  paper. 

I have  often  wondered  how  such  an  obvious  fraud  can  blind 
any  one’s  eyes.  One  can  have  little  sympathy  for  such  men,  and 
while  human  nature  remains  what  it  is,  there  will  be  always  those 
who  are  eager  to  take  advantage  of  what  appears  to  be  a weakness 
of  their  fellows. 

The  “mock  auction”  dodge  is  another  of  the  tricks  played  on 
rustics,  though  of  late  years  it  has  been  pretty  well  suppressed. 
A store  is  rented,  usually  on  some  frequented  thoroughfare,  and 
fitted  with  a stock  of  goods — cigars,  for  instance.  These  are 
seemingly  sold  at  public  auction,  but  the  crowd  generally  assem- 
bled around  the  auctioneer  consists  of  confederates  in  the  swindle. 
A stranger  enters,  and  bids  on  a box  of  cigars ; they  are  low  in 
price,  and  are  finally  “knocked  down”  to  him.  He  steps  up  to 
the  cashier  to  settle  his  bill  and  is  informed  he  has  bought  a dozen 
or  more  boxes.  He  remonstrates,  but  after  some  haggling  he  pays 
the  amount  demanded,  and  orders  the  goods  sent  to  his  address, 
only  to  discover  that  they  are  not  worth  smoking. 

Another  trick  of  auction-dealers,  so  called,  which  cannot  be 
strictly  termed  a swindle,  is  the  fitting  up  of  a house  with  furniture, 
and  representing  it  as  being  second-hand,  sold  out  to  close  an  es- 
tate, or  something  of  that  sort.  It  is  an  old  belief  that  women  in 
search  of  bargains  will  pay  more  for  a second-hand  article  than 


A MUSICAL  WAY. 


i ■ 


32 


they  will  for  a new  one  ; and  the  dealers  thus  set  the  nets  to  catch 
the  unwary.  I know  of  one  house  on  Twenty-third  Street  where 
the  red  flag  has  been  flapping  in  the  breeze  for  nearly  twenty 
years;  the  auctioneer  has  held  a “peremptory  sale”  once  a week 
during  that  period. 

A curious  swindle  which  was  successful  for  a season  in  New 
York  was  known  as  the  “ hot  water  ” scheme.  A natty,  fashionably 
dressed  little  fellow,  innocent  looking,  fluent  in  conversation,  with 
a delicate  blonde  mustache,  calculated  to  disarm  suspicion,  went 
about  the  city,  from  house  to  house,  pulling  door-bells  and  inquir- 
ing for  the  lady  of  the  house.  He  had  a partiality  for  flats.  En- 
tering the  main  hall  of  the  building,  he  asked  the  elevator  boy 
who  lived  in  the  right  hand  flat  on  the  second  floor. 

“ Mrs.  Stevens,”  the  boy  would  reply. 

“ Yes,  that’s  the  name.  I wish  to  see  her.  Take  me  up, 
please.” 

When  her  bell  had  been  answered  he  would  say  in  the  blandest 
manner  possible  : 

“ I have  come  to  fix  the  piano.” 

The  servant  would  show  him  into  the  drawing-room,  and  he 
would  note  the  name  of  the  maker  before  the  mistress  of  the  house 
appeared.  As  she  entered  he  would  bow  gracefully,  saying  : — 

“ Mrs.  Stevens,  I presume.” 

“ Yes,”  the  lady  would  reply.  “ The  girl  tells  me  you  have  come 
to  fix  my  piano.” 

“Yes,  madam.  Mr.  Steinway  sent  me  up.  He  said  Mr. 
Stevens  called  a day  or  two  ago  and  wished  some  one  to  be  sent  to 
examine  the  piano.  He  thought  it  needed  a little  tuning.  I see 
you  have  a beautiful  Steinway.  Do  you  play  ? ” 

“ Well,  yes,  I play  some  for  my  own  amusement.  I hadn’t  dis- 
covered that  there  was  anything  the  matter  with  the  piano.” 

“ I can  soon  tell,”  replied  the  swindler  going  to  the  instrument 
and  deftly  running  his  fingers  up  and  down  the  key-board. 

“ It  is  a little  ‘off  pitch,’  as  we  say,  in  the  higher  notes.  No 
wonder,  in  this  dreadful  climate  of  ours  and  in  the  steam-heated 
rooms  of  flats.  Steam  heat  is  so  bad  for  pianos,  madam.” 

By  this  time  Mrs.  Stevens  ceases  to  think  about  the  strangeness 
of  her  husband’s  actions  in  relation  to  her  piano.  He  was  never 
before  known  to  have  sent  a tuner  to  the  house.  But  men  are 
such  strange  creatures  ! She  becomes  absorbed  in  the  work  and 


FIVE  DOLLARS  THE  TUNE. 


133 


conversation  of  the  agreeable  man.  He  opens  a little  hand  satchel, 
takes  out  a tuning  key,  raises  the  lid  of  the  piano  and  begins  to 
tighten  the  high  strings. 

“ I suppose  you  might  as  well  have  your  piano  put  at  concert 
pitch,”  he  says.  “That  will  do  no  harm,  for  there  is  sure  to  be  a 
lowering  of  tone  in  a little  while.” 

So  he  turns  this  staple  and  that,  and  keeps  up  a vigorous  pound- 
ing on  the  instrument,  striking  single  notes  and  chords. 

“ Ah ! ” he  declares  at  last,  elevating  his  eyebrows,  and  listening 
with  keen  attention.  “ Here  is  a note  which  needs  special  treat- 
ment. May  I trouble  you  to  get  me  a piece  of  flannel  and  a 
dish  of  boiling  hot  water.” 

“ Certainly,  if  you  will  wait  a few  moments,”  is  the  reply,  and 
Mrs.  Stevens  darts  out  of  the  room  and  finds  a servant,  or  flies  to 
the  kitchen  herself.  She  is  gone  a considerable  time,  for  flannel 
and  boiling  hot  water  are  not  to  be  brought  on  the  instant.  The 
fire  is  poked,  and  drawers  are  ransacked  for  flannel. 

The  “bogus”  piano-tuner  smiles  serenely.  He  keeps  up  a 
strumming  of  the  piano  and  looks  about  the  room  for  any  little  valu- 
able trinket  he  can  pocket.  He  usually  sees  one  and  steals  it. 

Ultimately  the  hot  water  and  flannel  arrive,  and  after  an  elabo- 
rate operation  he  declares  the  work  of  tuning  completed. 

“ How  much  do  I owe  you  ? ” the  lady  asks. 

As  she  has  taken  him  at  his  word  without  any  suspicions,  he 
modestly  replies  : 

“ Five  dollars.  And  the  next  time  you  play  you  will  get  much 
better  effects  than  ever  before.” 

Finally  the  husband  comes  home  to  his  seven  o’clock  dinner. 

“ Whatever  made  you  think  of  sending  a piano-tuner  up  to  the 
house  ? ” she  asks. 

“ A piano-tuner ! What  do  you  mean  ? I haven’t  seen  any 
piano-tuner.” 

“ Well,  but  didn’t  you  stop  at  Steinway’s  a few  days  ago  and  ask 
them  to  send  a man  to  fix  our  piano  ? ” 

“ No,  of  course  not.  Why  should  I ? What  do  I know  about 
pianos  ? ” 

“ But  a man  came  here,  and  said  he  was  sent  by  you.” 

“ Well  ? ” 

“ And  he  tuned  the  piano.” 

“ Well  ? ” 


134 


FARMERS  : DON’T  SIGN. 


“ And  I paid  him  five  dollars.” 

“ Swindled  ! An  impostor  ! A humbug  ! Nobody  sent  him.  I 
suppose  if  a man  came  and  said  Redfern  had  sent  him,  you’d  give 
him  your  $600  dress  to  be  fixed.  A button  off,  or  a stitch  broken.” 

“ You  frighten  me.  Why,  it  is  perfectly  dreadful  ! He  may  have 
stolen  something  from  the  parlor  ! ” 

“ Most  likely  he  did,”  replies  the  husband. 

She  rushes  about  and  finds  her  pocket-book  and  watch  missing, 
which  were  in  the  next  room  ; also  a rare  bronze  ornament  which 
stood  on  the  parlor  chimney-piece,  and  a costly  Japanese  embroi- 
dered scarf  which  hung  over  a picture. 

The  next  morning,  on  his  way  down  town,  Mr.  Stevens  steps 
into  Steinway’s  to  ascertain  if  they  did  ask  a tuner  to  call  at  his 
house. 

“ We  know  nothing  of  the  matter,”  is  the  reply.  “ Half  a dozen 
persons  have  been  here  within  a week,  to  ask  questions  about  the 
same  fellow.  He’s  no  tuner  at  all,  but  a piano  destroyer!  One 
day  he  claims  to  be  from  .this  house  ; the  next  day  he  is  from  Chick- 
ering’s,  or  some  other  establishment.  He  always  plays  the  hot 
water  and  flannel  dodge,  to  give  himself  a chance  to  rob  while  the 
lady  of  the  house  is  away.” 

Complaints  have  been  made  to  me  very  often  by  farmers  from 
New  Jersey,  Long  Island  and  other  places  of  having  been  swin- 
dled by  a person  who  travels  about  in  the  garb  of  a clergyman. 
He  enters  a farm-house,  and  declaring  that  he  is  an  agent  of  the 
New  York  Bible  Society,  says  that  he  needs  a meal.  After  having 
eaten  as  much  as  he  can,  he  inquires  the  cost,  and  is  usually  in- 
formed that  there  is  no  charge.  He  insists  upon  leaving  twenty- 
five  cents  in  the  hands  of  his  host,  remarking  that  the  Bible  So- 
ciety will  not  allow  him  to  receive  any  charity.  But  the  Society  is 
very  strict  about  the  production  of  vouchers  or  receipts  for  money 
paid  by  its  agents. 

“ Please  sign  this  voucher,”  says  the  agent.  “ It  is  a mere  mat- 
ter of  form,  you  know.” 

And  the  farmer  signs,  and  forgets  all  about  it  in  an  hour.  But 
the  incident  is  brought  to  his  mind  in  a forcible  manner,  ninety 
days  afterwards,  when  he  receives  a letter  from  the  county  bank 
asking  him  to  settle  a note  for  $146.25,  signed  by  him,  which  the 
bank  had  discounted  in  good  faith.  The  next  clerical-looking  indi- 


‘COACHMAN  ” JOHN. 


*35 

viclual  who  calls  at  that  farmer’s  house  is  treated  with  suspicion,  if 
nothing  else. 

The  sheriff  of  Monroe  County,  New  York,  was  a very  shrewd  man. 

He  declared  that  he  had  not  been  constable  of  Irondequoit,  and 
a policeman  in  Rochester,  for  nothing.  He  had  learned  all  there 
was  to  learn  about  “ sharpers.”  So  when  he  was  on  a train  going 
to  the  metropolis  one  morning  to  buy  a horse,  harness  and  various 
trappings,  he  bought  a paper  and  looked  over  the  news.  He  in- 
formed himself,  and  then  he  turned  sleepily  to  the  column  of  “ horses 
at  auction  ” and  read  the  advertisements — among  others  this: — 

“For  Sale  At  Immense  Sacrifice! — Owing  to  death  in  the  family,  a 
widow  is  compelled  to  sell  for  what  they  will  bring,  her  entire  stock  of  horses, 
carriages,  harness,  etc.  Among  these  are  some  young  and  handsome  Hamble- 
tonians  of  the  following  pedigree — [here  follows  alleged  pedigree.]  Apply  at 
stable  corner  Morton  and  Ashby  streets,  and  ask  for  coachman,  John.” 

“ I’ll  call  and  look  at  those,”  said  the  shrewd  sheriff  to  himself. 

After  going  to  the  Bull’s  Head  the  next  morning  and  looking  over 
the  stock,  he  answered  the  attractive  advertisement.  John  was 
present,  exercising  the  animals  in  the  yard.  The  sheriff  cast  a 
critical  glance  at  their  fetlocks,  and  the  horse-talk  began.  The 
examination  continued.  Presently  in  came  another  customer. 
The  coachman  slyly  questioned  him  and  found  that  he  was  a dealer, 
looking  for  slock  for  omnibuses.  This  fact  was  revealed  just  as 
a bargain  was  making  for  two  strong-looking  horses  at  $450.  The 
coachman  suddenly  exclaimed  : 

“No  use  talking  any  longer.  You  can’t  have  any  of  these 
horses  at  any  price.  I suspected  you  was  a dealer  at  first,  and 
now  you  want  ’em  for  omnibuses.  No,  sir ! My  mistress  in- 
structed me  positively  not  to  sell  any  of  ’em  ’cept  to  private  par- 
ties, who  would  feed  ’em  well  and  treat  ’em  kindly.  So  no  use  for 
you  to  talk.” 

The  buyer  expostulated,  but  the  coachman  was  firm,  and  the 
dealer  reluctantly  went  away. 

“I  wouldn’t  sell  them  two  horses  to  him  for  $1000 ! ” John  ex- 
claimed when  he  and  the  sheriff  were  alone.  “ Omnibus  horses  ! 
Jim  and  Nancy,  who  never  knew  anything  harder  than  to  toddle 
around  with  the  old  lady  or  the  girls,  and  live  on  the  fat  of  the 
land.  I’d  sell  ’em  for  private  use  cheaper  than  I charged  him.” 

The  sheriff  inquired  and  found  that  he  could  get  them  for  $400. 


A HORSEY  GO-BETWEEN. 

I36 


IF  YOU  SELL  ’EM  QUICK.” 


J37 


But  he  knew  something  about  horse-flesh,  and  thought  he  saw  evi- 
dences of  their  having  been  doctored  and  “ fixed  up  ” to  sell.  So 
he  declined  with  thanks  and  withdrew,  thinking,  “ Now,  if  I could 
buy  them  for  $400  and  sell  them  to  the  other  fellow  for  $450 ! ” 

He  had  not  gone  a block  before  he  met  the  disappointed 
searcher  after  horses,  who  bowed  to  him  and  asked,  “ Did  you 
buy  ’em  ? ” 

“No,”  replied  the  sheriff,  “but  I could.  In  fact,  I thought  of 
buying  them  for  you.” 

“Why  didn’t  you  ? ” 

“ Well,  hang  it ! I can’t  take  any  risks.  I’d  no  idea  I should 
ever  see  you  again.” 

“The  fact  is,”  said  the  other,  “I  sort  of  stayed  around  here  to 
see  if  I couldn’t  get  the  horses  somehow.  I shall  hire  somebody 
to  buy  them  for  me,  some  respectable-looking  man  like  yourself.” 

“ B’  George  ! ” exclaimed  the  sheriff,  “ I’ll  get  ’em  for  you. 
You  say  $450  for  ’em  ? ” 

“ Yes,  $450  it  is,  and  blamed  glad  I shall  be.  They’re  worth 
$600  if  a cent.  I’ve  seen  ’em  on  the  road.” 

The  sheriff  went  back,  bought  the  steeds  for  $400,  and  led 
them  through  the  double  doors  to  the  street,  with  the  halters  which 
John  had  generously  “ thrown  in.”  He  led  them  around  the  cor- 
ner to  where  the  anxious  purchaser  was  ten  minutes  ago,  but,  alas  ! 
was  no  longer.  He  had  vanished. 

The  sheriff  climbed  on  one  of  the  horses  and  waited  for  the 
owner.  When  dusk  came  he  thoughtfully  took  the  horses  back 
to  the  stable. 

“ Of  course,”  John  said,  “ I know  nothing  about  the  other  gen- 
tleman. Never  saw  him  before.” 

Sadly  the  sheriff  led  his  hungry  purchase  to  the  Bull’s  Head,  and 
inquired  how  much  they  were  worth. 

“Them?”  said  a good-natured  expert;  “them?  Well,  hides, 
$2.50  ; shoes — there’re  only  five — fifty  cents  ; hoofs  and  so  forth, 
fifty  cents  more — Well,  them  horses  may  be  worth  four  dollars,  if 
you  sell  ’em  quick  ! ” 

Leaving  them  as  temporary  boarders,  he  hurried  back  to  Mor- 
ton Street  with  a sturdy  policeman,  but  the  darkey  had  shifted  his 
quarters  and  was  seen  no  more. 


- • 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE  THIEVES  OF  THE  RIVER. — MURDER  ON  THE  “ WATSON.” — KILLED 
FOR  TWELVE  CENTS. — THE  HARBOR  POLICE. SCENE  IN  A BROOK- 

LYN HORSE-CAR. — “SOCCO,  THE  BRACER’s”  END. — THE  HOOK 
GANG. — GONE  TO  BROOKLYN  AND  JERSEY  CITY. 

On  a dark  night  in  August,  1852,  three  men  in  a small  boat 
pushed  out  into  the  East  River  from  the  neighborhood  of  James 
Slip,  and  with  oars  muffled  rowed  stealthily  for  a few  rods  to 
where  the  ship  “ William  Watson  ” was  moored.  It  was  just  the 
night  for  a crime.  The  black  river  rushed  on  its  course  as  though 
afraid  to  stop  and  see  what  was  doing  on  its  surface.  Heavy 
clouds  hung  overhead.  The  air  was  hot  and  oppressive,  and  the 
atmosphere  was  thick  with  mist.  The  small  boat  neared  the 
larger  vessel.  In  a moment  they  joined.  Two  men  rose  from 
their  seats  and  climbed  nimbly  over  the  ship’s  side  to  her  deck. 
Neither  man  was  more  than  twenty  years  old.  The  lights  from 
the  great  city,  which  now  and  then  shone  on  their  faces,  revealed 
features  marked  with  crime.  They  worked  quietly  about  the  deck, 
stealing  whatever  they  could,  until  they  were  discovered  by  the 
watchman.  But  what  was  he  to  men  who  lived  on  crime  ? One 
of  them  whipped  out  his  revolver,  fired,  and  in  a second  Charles 
Baxter’s  body  was  inanimate.  Nicholas  Howlett  and  William 
Saul,  two  notorious  river  thieves,  were  his  murderers.  William 
Johnson,  their  confederate,  whom  they  had  left  in  the  small  boat, 
stupidly  drunk,  was  no  unwilling  witness  of  the  tragedy. 

The  pistol  shot  which  killed  the  watchman  of  the  “ Watson  ” 
was  not  loud,  but  it  was  heard  by  a policeman  on  shore,  and  the 
results  of  the  investigation  which  followed  aroused  the  police 
authorities  of  New  York  to  face  a new  and  prolific  source  of  crime. 
I was  put  at  the  head  of  an  able  corps  of  detectives  to  ferret  out 
the  murderers.  Our  task  was  not  an  easy  one,  but  suspicion  cen- 
tred on  the  right  persons,  and  they  were  arrested.  Johnson 
turned  State’s  evidence.  He  was  committed  to  imprisonment  for 
life,  but  Saul  and  Howlett  were  hanged  on  January  28,  1853. 

138 


THE  RIVER  FRONT. 


139 


My  investigations  in  this  murder  opened  to  me  a chapter  in  the 
annals  of  crime,  of  the  full  horrors  of  which  I never  dreamed.  If 
they  could  be  told  exactly  as  they  occurred,  they  would  make  a 
tale  of  human  depravity  unparalleled  in  history.  Citizens  were 
thrilled  with  wonder  as  they  realized  for  the  first  time  what  human 
monsters  prowled  around  our  river  fronts.  The  police  found  that 
there  were  organized  bands  of  harbor  thieves,  who  thought  no 
more  of  the  life  of  a man  than  that  of  a chicken.  If  they  had 
been  merely  thieves,  the  revelations  would  not  have  caused  the 
sensation  they  did ; but  these  men,  or  boys  rather,  looked  on  mur- 
der merely  as  a means  to  enable  them  to  steal  without  molestation. 
Perhaps  a more  hopeless  maze  of  crime  was  never  laid  bare  in  the 
city  of  New  York.  No  way  appeared  at  first  for  checking  it. 
Detective  skill  had  been  successful  in  nearly  every  kind  of  crime 
on  shore,  but  here  it  was  baffled  by  natural  disadvantages.  The 
main  part  of  the  island  was  bounded  by  piers  and  slips,  which 
were  in  turn  fringed  on  one  side  by  grog  shops,  rum  holes,  and 
all  kinds  of  iniquitous  dens,  breeding  crimes  as  rapidly  as  mos- 
quitoes are  bred  in  a swamp.  Along  the  piers  ran  the  swiftly  flow- 
ing rivers,  a constant  source  of  escape  by  day  or  night.  Down 
the  North  River  fronts  and  up  the  East  River  docks  criminals 
formed  the  greater  part  of  the  population.  They  went  in  gangs. 
Each  gang  had  its  leaders  and  its  rough  rules  of  discipline.  Its 
members  lived  in  the  vilest  dens.  Carousing  or  scheming  all  day, 
prowling,  marauding  and  thieving  all  night — these  were  their  occu- 
pations. 

The  criminal  operations  of  these  men  were  not  confined  to  the 
water.  They  stole,  and  robbed,  and  murdered  on  land  as  well. 
Woe  to  the  pedestrian  who  happened  to  be  seen  alone  at  night  in 
the  dark  places  along  the  river  ! It  is  dangerous  enough  now,  but 
then  it  was  a thousand  times  worse.  These  fiends  infested  every 
place  where  men  were  likely  to  spend  money.  Here  they  watched 
their  prey,  tracked  them  out-of-doors,  waylaid  and  robbed  them. 
Abandoned  women  were  confederates  of  the  thieves.  They  prom- 
enaded on  the  fashionable  streets,  and  lured  victims  into  the 
haunts  of  their  companions  in  crime.  To  rob  was  the  consuming 
motive  ; a murder  was  an  amusement.  There  must  have  been  at 
least  one  every  month.  The  criminal  records  include  thousands. 
How  many  more  occurred  is  known  only  to  the  waters  that  eddy 
round  Manhattan  Island  and  then  hurry  out  to  sea.  With  no 


POLICE  AND  RIVER  PIRATES. 


“daybreak  boys.”  '*  141 

police  supervision  on  the  water  there  was  little  clanger  that  a mur- 
der would  out.  It  was  an  easy  thing  to  stun  a man  in  some  dark 
corner,  ritie  his  pockets  and  toss  the  body  into  the  river.  The 
splash  was  the  only  sound  likely  to  betray  the  awful  crime. 

It  made  no  difference  apparently  to  these  criminals  how  little 
money  or  how  few  valuables  their  intended  victim  had  about  him. 
A few  pennies  were  sufficient  reward  for  a dastardly  crime.  A 
German  immigrant,  poorer  in  appearance  than  themselves,  and 
nothing  but  a wanderer,  without  even  a home,  was  found  at  mid- 
night walking  on  the  Battery.  A single  blow  with  a slung-shot 
ended  his  life.  His  assailants  secured  twelve  cents  as  the  result 
of  their  conscienceless  crime,  and  threw  the  body  into  the  water. 
It  was  winter,  and  the  river  was  frozen.  This  body  did  not  drift 
out  to  sea  with  other  victims  of  these  midnight  monsters ; it 
remained  upon,  the  ice,  and  those  who  passed  along  the  Battery 
wall  early  the  next  morning  saw  glaring  at  them  the  fixed  eyes  of 
a frozen  corpse.  There  was  still  a worse  case.  Three  sailors, 
being  rowed  out  to  their  ship  in  the  North  River,  were  overtaken  by^ 
four  of  these  river  pirates,  robbed  of  their  trunks  and  thrown 
overboard  to  drown.  The  wretches  who  did  the  crime  went 
coolly  to  the  shore  with  the  captured  boat. 

A somewhat  similar  case,  though  not  attended  with  murder, 
happened  on  the  North  River  in  broad  daylight.  It  was  an 
achievement  of  the  gang  known  as  the  “ Daybreak  Boys.”  They 
were  mere  boys  in  years,  but  were  patriarchs  in  villany.  They 
were  called  the  “ Daybreak  Boys  ” because  they  nearly  always 
chose  for  their  depredations  that  hour  of  dawn  when  men  sleep 
soundest.  In  this  instance,  however,  ihey  were  out  of  their  dens 
in  the  daytime.  As  they  rowed  leisurely  along,  they  discovered 
three  boys  at  a distance,  out  for  a pleasure  sail.  The  boys  were 
sons  of  respectable  parents,  and  in  an  innocent  way  were  enjoying 
their  sport  to  the  utmost.  In  a moment  the  young  thieves  were 
alongside  the  sail-boat.  Grabbing  the  edge  of  the  boat  and  hold- 
ing it  fast,  they  flourished  some  ugly  knives  in  the  air  and  began 
to  climb  into  it.  The  frightened  boys  attempted  to  resist,  but  in 
vain.  Resistance  wounded  the  pride  of  these  tyrants.  They 
flourished  their  knives  with  more  bravado,  and  let  forth  a volley  of 
oaths  that  would  have  made  a hardened  reprobate  quiver.  The 
boys  gave  in.  They  let  themselves  be  robbed  of  their  pocket 
knives,  their  money  and  the  silver  watch  which  one  of  them  had, 


142 


“sneaks.” 


and  then  were  obliged  to  row  their  captors  ashore.  Fortunately, 
there  was  a detective  on  the  shore,  and  the  thieves  were  arrested 
and  afterwards  imprisoned. 

Two  classes  of  thieves  infest  the  river  front  and  ply  their  nefa- 
rious trade  on  the  waters  surrounding  Manhattan  Island,  Long 
Island  and  Staten  Island.  The  first  are  the  “ wharf  rats,”  as  they 
are  called.  These,  as  a rule,  confine  their  operations  to  the  piers 
and  docks,  and  conduct  them  during  the  day.  They  are  the 
“sneaks”  of  the  profession,  and  are  for  the  most  part  boys  and 
young  men.  The  other  and  more  dangerous  class  is  composed  of 
those  who  know  no  short  lengths  in  crime — men  who  plunge  their 
knives  up  to  the  hilt  in  the  bodies  of  defenceless  victims,  in  order 
that  their  lust  for  money  or  valuables  may  be  gratified — men  who 
know  no  resistance,  scarce  even  the  mighty  power  of  the  law.  To 
them  the  cutting  of  a throat  is  no  worse  a crime  than  the  stealing 
of  a bag  of  coffee.  If  they  can  get  the  coffee  without  interruption, 
well  and  good.  But  woe  to  him  who  interferes. 

The  thousands  of  vessels  which  load  and  unload  in  New  York 
harbor  are  the  sources  from  which  these  river  pirates  get  their 
stolen  property.  There  is  nothing  extraordinary  in  the  mere 
thefts  of  these  men ; it  is  the  way  they  commit  them  and  the 
means  they  use,  together  with  their  audacious  boldness  and  hard- 
ness. When  the  blackness  of  night  hangs  over  the  harbor,  then 
the  pirates  dart  out  from  the  shore  in  their  small  boats  to  the  ship 
they  wish  to  ransack.  They  watch  for  a moment  when  well  out, 
to  see  that  they  are  not  observed.  By  ropes  they  climb  nimbly  up 
the  vessel’s  sides  and  soon  are  looking  for  things  to  steal.  The 
sailors  on  the  ship  sleep  soundly,  familiar  with  the  crime  which 
lurks  on  all  sides  of  them,  but  made  reckless  by  their  very  famil- 
iarity with  it.  Usually  the  prowlers  meet  with  no  opposition. 
They  go  through  the  vessel  like  hungry  men  through  a pantry. 
Nothing  is  too  small  for  them  to  carry  away.  A rope’s-end,  a 
pulley,  anything  they  can  afterward  dispose  of.  Sometimes  the 
vessel  is  loaded  with  rice,  or  sugar,  or  coffee.  If  there  are  any 
stray  bags  they  seize  them,  drop  them  gently  over  into  their  boat, 
and  when  well  laden  pull  back  to  their  dives.  It  is  almost  impos- 
sible to  convict  them  if  captured,  for  they  tear  the  wrappings  from 
the  stolen  articles,  and  it  is  hard  to  prove  that  the  sugar,  or  rice, 
or  coffee,  or  what  not  in  their  possession,  is  the  same  as  that 
missed  from  the  vessel.  Sergeant  Edwin  O’Brien  in  one  year 


WHERE  PLUNDER  GOES. 


M3 


made  fifty-seven  arrests,  and  yet  secured  only  three  convictions. 
The  stolen  property  is  taken  to  police  headquarters  and  placed 
under  the  charge  of  the  property  clerk.  Sometimes  the  owners 
think  they  recognize  it  as  theirs,  but  they  dare  not  swear  so ; so  the 
thieves  go  free  and  get  their  goods  besides. 

When  I was  superintendent,  however,  it  occasionally  happened 
that  we  caught  and  convicted  the  thieves  by  a shrewd  move  which 
took  them  completely  by  surprise.  We  would  let  the  charge  of 
larceny  go  by,  detain  the  thieves,  and  send  for  the  customs  officers, 
who  held  them  for  smuggling.  The  rascals  could  not  demonstrate, 
of  course,  that  they  had  paid  duty  on  the  goods  which  they 
asserted  had  come  into  their  possession  by  lawful  means,  and  so 
were  obliged  to  surrender  their  plunder  and  boats  to  the  United 
States  Government.  Another  happy  thought  on  the  part  of  the 
police  was  to  prosecute  the  offenders  for  violating  the  quarantine 
laws,  in  boarding  vessels  which  were  under  surveillance  by  the 
State  authorities.  The  neighborhood  of  Quarantine  was  at  that 
time  thickly  infested  with  harbor  thieves,  and  efforts  to  secure 
their  conviction  when  caught,  on  the  charge  of  larceny,  failed,  as  in 
many  other  cases.  But  this  new  scheme  reached  them  nearly 
every  time,  and  so  many  convictions  were  secured  that  the  thieves 
were  gradually  scattered  to  other  parts  of  the  river  and  harbor. 

The  stolen  property  of  the  river  pirates  is  disposed  of  at  the 
shops  of  the  junk  dealers.  These  line  the  river  fronts  almost  as 
thickly  as  rum  shops,  and  are  quite  as  fruitful  in  fostering  crime. 
The  junk  dealers  are  in  most  cases  the  equals  in  iniquity  with 
their  piratical  business  friends.  They  are  the  “ fences.”  It  is  in 
their  shops  often  that  foul  murders  are  plotted.  It  is  there  that 
choice  fields  for  robbers’  work  are  made  known  and  talked  over. 
To  get  their  stolen  goods  to  these  places  the  pirates  have  to  call  into 
play  all  their  cunning,  and  the  junk  dealers  in  turn  have  to  exert 
all  their  shrewdness  in  getting  rid  of  the  property  before  the  police 
discover  it.  It  has  been  said  that  junk  dealers  will  receive  almost 
anything  save  hot-house  flowers  or  an  iceberg. 

When  Saul  and  Howlett  were  hanged  for  that  foul  murder  com- 
mitted on  the  night  of  the  25th  of  August,  1852,  it  had  a wholesome 
effect  for  a time  upon  this  kind  of  villany.  The  thieves  had 
hitherto  prospered  undisturbed.  Now  public  attention  and  police 
attention  were  fixed  upon  them.  They  stood  in  little  awe  of  both, 
it  is  true,  but  nevertheless  Crime  stalked  not  quite  so  triumphantly 


144 


A JOLLY  EXCURSION. 


as  it  had.  The  establishment  of  a corps  of  harbor  police  was  the 
first  step  to  wipe  out  this  evil.  The  captain  in  charge  of  this  corps 
had  fifty-seven  men  under  his  command.  The  rules  to  which  the 
force  was  subjected  were  essentially  the  same  as  those  which  gov- 
erned the  land  force.  There  was  a station-house  on  shore.  There 
were  six  boats  constantly  on  patrol  and,  well  manned,  they  worked 
their  way  up  and  down  the  two  rivers  at  regular  hours  of  the  day. 
These  did  not  protect  the  entire  water-front  of  the  city,  but  they 
frightened  somewhat  these  demons  who  before  had  shown  no 
signs  of  fear.  Yet  robberies  and  murders  went  on. 

During  the  first  year  of  its  organization  the  new  force  signalized 
itself  by  practically  breaking  up  the  old  gang  of  which  Saul  and 
Howlett  were  the  leaders.  Twelve  pirates  had  been  shot ; “ Bill  ” 
Lowrie,  a famous  thief,  had  been  sent  to  prison  for  fifteen  years ; 
“ Sam  ” McCarthy  had  been  driven  from  the  river,  and  the  rest  of 
the  mob  had  been  dispersed.  The  good  work  was  kept  up,  and 
soon  the  harbor  police  became  an  indispensable  auxiliary  to  the 
land  force.  Instead  of  the  row-boats  with  which  they  at  first  pa- 
trolled the  river,  they  were  supplied  with  a fast  little  steamer  of 
one  hundred  and  fifteen  tons,  called  the  “ Seneca,”  and  thus  they 
were  enabled  to  make  their  work  still  more  efficient. 

The  tragedy  which  was  the  final  one  during  my  term  of  office  of 
superintendent  of  police,  and  which  directly  concerned  the  harbor 
squad,  was  that  which  occurred  on  Sunday,  August  31,  1884. 
The  lads  and  young  girls  employed  in  a laundry  in  West  Houston 
Street  determined  to  indulge  themselves  in  an  outing,  after  their 
long  summer  of  excessively  enervating  work.  They  had  formed  an 
association  among  themselves,  and  after  chartering  a tug  and  two 
barges  they  invited  all  their  friends  and  set  out  for  a jolly  excur- 
sion up  the  Hudson  River.  Their  destination  was  Linden  Grove, 
where  there  was  much  fun  to  be  obtained  from  the  double 
swings,  merry-go-rounds  and  the  dancing  platform.  These  work- 
ing persons  were  most  respectable.  But  in  their  distribution  of 
tickets  they  did  not  make  judicious  selections. 

On  all  well  regulated  New  York  excursions  there  is  a luncheon 
counter  on  one  of  the  decks  of  the  barges.  That  on  the  laundry’s 
pleasure  trip  had  been  rented  by  a quiet  German,  named  Kopf. 
Near  him  was  a bar  for  the  sale  of  beer.  The  trip  up  the  river 
was  made  pleasantly,  save  for  the  disorderly  actions  of  a party  of 
five  or  six  men  who  attempted  to  swindle  the  bar-keeper  out  of  his 


ITS  SEQUEL. 


45 


beer.  These  men  were  partly  intoxicated  when  the  excursion  left 
Linden  Grove.  They  drank  more  liquor,  however,  and  became 
exceedingly  obnoxious  to  the  women  on  board  the  barge.  They 
singled  out  Mrs.  Kopf  from  the  rest  and  insulted  her.  She  paid  no 
attention  to  them  and  they  went  away. 

Mrs.  Kopf  had  several  of  her  young  children  with  her  on  the  ex- 
cursion, and  as  they  played  about  her  and  gazed,  open-eyed,  at  the 
sweep  of  the  majestic  highlands,  the  mother  was  unmindful  of  the 
unpleasant  adventure  of  a little  time  before.  Luncheon  from  the 
stand  down  stairs  was  eaten,  and  Mrs.  Kopf  was  already  counting 
the  prospective  profits  of  the  day.  But  suddenly  she  heard  a rush 
made  on  the  lower  deck.  Then  came  the  loud  protestations  of  a 
man  and  a volley  of  curses  from  a crowd.  Another  rush  was  made  ; 
women  who  were  seated' near  her  shrieked  and  fainted,  but  Mrs. 
Kopf  was  a sturdy  German  matron  whose  nerves  were  seldom 
shaken.  Then  there  was  the  sound  of  crashing  glass,  a groan  and 
a shout : 

“ Beat  them  back — they’ve  killed  the  Dutchman  ! ” 

Mrs.  Kopf  thought  the  fight  was  becoming  interesting,  so  she 
drew  her  children  about  her  and  went  towards  the  stairway  to  watch 
it.  She  went  half  way  down  stairs.  She  saw  a form  lying  upon  the 
deck  with  ugly  red  blotches  of  blood  about  it.  She  looked  at  the 
face.  It  was  but  a glance. 

“ Oh,  my  God  ! Oh,  my  children,  they  have  killed  him — they 
have  murdered  your  father  ! 

Kopf  was  dead.  The  ruffians  had  made  an  attack  on  his  counter 
with  the  intention  of  raiding  it,  but  the  courageous  German  stood 
his  ground  and  defended  his  sandwiches.  His  defence  cost  him 
his  life.  One  of  the  ruffians  caught  up  a he.avy  beer-glass  and 
struck  Kopf  oh  the  head,  driving  a piece  of  the  skull  into  the  brain. 
Death  was  almost  instantaneous.  The  fight  continued  until  the 
barges  reached  New  York,  and  before  the  boats  were  moored  the 
men  who  had  killed  the  German  leaped  to  the  pier  and  escaped. 
Then  the  harbor  police  appeared,  but  it  was  too  late  ; the  murderers 
had  fled.  The  barges  were  towed  to  Staten  Island  and  there  an 
arrest  was  made,  but  the  prisoner  was  discharged  on  some  legal 
technicality.  Kopf’s  murderers  never  paid  the  penalty  of  their 
crime. 

One  morning  the  passengers  in  a Brooklyn  street-car  were  as- 
10 


146 


“ NED  PERRY  SHOT  ME  ! ” 


lonished  and  horrified  by  a man  who,  with  blood  streaming  down  his 
garments,  jumped  aboard,  and,  sinking  into  a seat,  exclaimed  : 

“ I am  a watchman  at  Harbeck’s  stores.  My  name  is  Thomas 
Hayes.  Ned  Perry  shot  me  ! ” 

The  man  spoke  and  then  was  dead.  The  passengers  on  that 
car  never  forgot  that  tragic  scene.  Perry,  who  was  a junkman,  was 
arrested  and  tried.  It  was  proved  that  Hayes  was  shot  in  order 
that  a certain  robbery  might  be  committed — a deliberately  planned 
murder — yet  Perry  escaped  hanging  and  was  sentenced  for  life. 

Several  years  passed  with  no  unusual  occurrence,  the  routine 
work  being  carried  on  with  great  efficiency.  However,  as  the  old 
thieves  were  “ settled  ” in  various  ways,  the  younger  ones  became 
more  ambitious,  committing  many  bold  and  daring  robberies.  In 
May,  1873,  Joseph  Gayles,  alias  “ Socco,  the  Bracer,”  “ Bum  ” 
Mahoney,  and  “ Billy”  Woods,  all  expert  river  thieves,  the  latter  a 
murderer,  stole  a boat,  and  muffling  their  oars  rowed  out  to  the  brig 
“ Margaret  ” at  Pier  27.  They  boarded  her  and  were  engaged  in 
rifling  the  captain’s  trunk,  when  both  the  captain  and  mate  were 
awakened.  Thereupon  the  thieves,  for  a wonder,  took  to  their 
boat,  but  not  until  an  alarm  had  been  sounded  which  brought  two 
officers  on  the  scene.  The  night  was  very  dark.  The  policemen 
looked  at  first  in  vain  for  any  signs  of  the  missing  thieves.  The 
waters  danced  to  a mournful  song,  and  seemed  grimly  to  rejoice 
that  they  were  sheltering  criminals.  The  fog,  too  combatted  the 
blue-coated  messengers  of  justice.  One  of  the  policemen  brought 
out  his  dark-lantern.  The  flash  from  the  bull’s-eye  lit  up  the  sur- 
face of  the  river,  yet  revealed  no  shadowy  figures  floating  off  with 
the  tide.  Again  the  water  was  scanned,  and  with  no  better  result. 
Had  the  river  itself  opened  to  receive  at  last  the  fiends  who  had 
filled  it  with  victims  ? But  now ! What  do  these  policemen 
see?  The  rays  of  the  lantern  have  lit  up  that  blackest  space  be- 
neath the  pier,  and  there,  crouching  in  the  darkness,  are  three  men 
in  a boat,  one  at  the  oars,  the  other  two  standing  with  drawn  revol- 
vers. Without  a word  being  spoken  on  either  side  Policeman 
Musgrave’s  pistol  breaks  the  silence.  As  it  echoes  across  the 
river,  “ Socco,  the  Bracer,”  falls,  mortally  wounded,  to  the  bottom 
of  the  boat.  A fusillade  of  shots  follow,  but  the  pirates  are  too 
alert.  Down  the  stream  they  urge  their  boat.  Socco,  the  Bracer’s, 
body  becomes  too  heavy  a weight  to  carry  for  those  who  are  trying 
to  escape  from  brave  and  determined  men,  so  overboard  it  goes, 


WHARF  RATS  AT  WORK. 


148 


THE  “ HOOK  GANG.” 


and  is  picked  up  four  days  later  at  the  foot  of  Stanton  Street. 
Socco  was  the  only  one  who  met  his  punishment ; his  companions 
escaped  from  their  pursuers. 

Shortly  after  this,  another  brig,  lying  off  the  Battery,  was  boarded 
by  a gang  of  thieves,  masked  and  heavily  armed.  They  abused  the 
captain  in  a shocking  manner,  assaulted  his  wife  and  departed 
with  everything  of  value  on  board.  Two  well-known  river  thieves 
were  arrested  for  this  crime,  tried  and  sentenced  to  twenty  years’ 
imprisonment.  While  they  confessed  that  they  were  river  pirates 
and  had  been  such  for  years,  they  denied  any  knowledge  of  this 
crime,  and  years  afterward  the  police  discovered  that  they  really 
were  innocent,  and  that  the  outrage  had  been  committed  by  a 
gang  under  the  lead  of  “ Denny  ” Brady,  “ Larry  ” Griffen  and 
“ Patsey  ” Cohroy,  who  had  also  committed  many  depredations 
in  suburban  villages. 

In  the  same  year,  Engleman,  another  famous  Fourth  Ward  river 
thief,  robbed  the  bark  “ Zouma.”  Being  discovered,  he  jumped 
overboard  and  clung  to  the  rudder  of  a schooner.  A rope  was 

thrown  him  but  he  exclaimed:  “Go  to  h -with  your  rope,” 

and  dove  under  the  vessel.  Swimming  from  dock  to  dock,  he 
evaded  for  three  hours  six  policemen  in  row  boats,  but  was  finally 
captured  and  afterward  convicted  and  sentenced. 

Not  long  after  this  an  attempt  was  made  to  steal  some  merchan- 
dise from  Pier  8,  North  River,  but  the  watchman  gave  an  alarm 
which  brought  the  police.  A shot  in  the  dark  after  the  thieves’ 
retreating  boat  was  answered  with  the  cry,  “Oh,  I’m  shot!” 
But  if  a man  was  shot  no  one  ever  knew  it.  No  body  of  a dead 
or  wounded  thief  was  afterward  found.  Perhaps  the  cry  was  a 
ruse  ; perhaps  the  North  River  really  did  claim  another  body. 

The  pirates  of  the  day  of  Saul  and  Howlett  probably  had 
their  successors  in  the  “ Hook  Gang,”  which  had  its  headquar- 
ters at  the  foot  of  Stanton  Street,  and  operated  anywhere  between 
the  Battery  and  Fourteenth  Street.  It  was  one  of  the  boldest  of 
the  gangs.  The  leaders  were  Merricks,  a desperate  thief  ; James 
Coffee,  who  had  served  one  term  in  State’s  prison  ; Preslin,  a fear- 
less robber;  Le  Strange  and  Lewis,  professionals  in  all  sorts  of 
crime;  “Sam”  McCracken,  John  Gallagher  and  “Tommy” 
Bonner.  At  one  o’clock  on  the  night  of  December  20th,  the  three 
last  mentioned  members  of  this  gang*  climbed  to  the  deck  of  the 
canal  boat  “ Thomas  H.  Birch,”  which  was  lying  off  Fourteenth 


ON  THE  BRIG  “ MATTAN.” 


149 


Street,  in  the  East  River,  and  marched  with  pistols  in  their  hands 
to  where  the  captain  lay  asleep. 

“ Gag  him  ! ” whispered  “ Tommy  ” Bonner. 

They  set  to  work  to  do  it.  The  captain  refused  to  be  gagged. 
He  struggled,  and,  in  spite  of  their  desperate  efforts  to  prevent 
him,  yelled.  The  sound  of  his  voice  aroused  Officer  Booz  and 
Captain  M.  J.  Murphy,  who  came  to  his  assistance.  When  they 
got  there  the  thieves  had  got  the  best  of  the  boat  captain,  and  he 
lay  bound  hands  and  feet  and  unable  to  speak.  The  policemen 
cornered  the  robbers,  covered  them  with  their  revolvers,  and 
made  them  prisoners.  The  three  thieves  were  afterward  sent  to 
the  Auburn  prison. 

Among  the  places  where  thieves  assembled  and  discussed  their 
trade  was  Slaughter  House  Point,  a low  rum  hole  at  Water  Street 
and  James  Slip.  At  one  time  “Bill”  Lowrie  and  “Slobbery 
Jim  ” were  the  leaders  of  the  gang  which  had  its  headquarters  here. 
Captain  Thorne,  then  of  the  Fourth  Ward,  thought  it  was  time  to 
close  up  the  den  after  seven  murders  had  been  committed  there. 
But  closing  the  gin  mill  did  not  break  up  the  gang.  “ The  Rising 
States,”  kept  by  Lowrie  and  “ Moll  ” Maher,  the  woman  who 
passed  as  his  wife,  was  opened  near  by  in  Water  Street.  Another 
place,  then  well  known  to  the  police,  was  “ One-armed  Charley’s  ” 
grog  shop,  called  the  “ Hole  in  the  Wall,”  where  “ Patsey,  the 
Barber,”  was  killed  by  “ Slobbery  Jim.” 

“ Denny  ” Brady,  who  figured  as  a leader  among  the  harbor 
thieves,  was  connected  in  his  day  with  almost  every  great  robbery 
which  took  place  in  this  country.  He  was  engaged  in  the  Ken- 
sington Bank  robbery,  where  he  took  $100,000  from  the  safe. 
Other  chief  spirits  in  this  kind  of  crime  were  often  participants 
in  robberies  of  a greater  magnitude. 

Few  depredations  of  the  harbor  thieves  were  more  daring 
than  the  outrage  on  board  the  brig  “ Mattan.”  Early  on  the 
morning  of  November  30th,  1873,  the  brig  had  been  loaded 

with  petroleum,  and  on  the  Sunday  previous  to  the  time  of  the 
crime  had  dropped  down  the  river  from  an  up-town  pier  and  an- 
chored off  the  Battery.  Her  captain  and  owner,  T.  H.  Connauton, 
was  expecting  to  take  his  crew  aboard  on  the  following  day  and 
then  to  embark  for  Liverpool.  Unexpectedly  his  voyage  was  de- 
layed. The  very  night  on  which  he  brought  his  vessel  to  anchor 
near  Castle  Garden,  a gang  of  river  thieves  was  watching  his 


“ who's  there  ? ” 


*5° 

movements  and  laying  plans  for  robbing  him.  These  plans  were 
carried  out  with  audaciousness  and  brutality. 

The  quiet  of  the  stillest  part  of  the  night — 2 a.m. — hung  over  the 
harbor  and  the  city,  as  a boatload  of  seven  men  pushed  out  from 
a dark  retreat  on  the  river  front,  and  slowly  and  cautiously  made 
its  way  to  the  “ Mattan.”  Just  before  reaching  the  brig,  the  seven 
men  adjusted  the  masks  which  concealed  their  features,  and 
scanned  the  surrounding  waters  for  a moment.  Then  they  came 
close  to  the  vessel  and  climbed  upon  her  decks.  Unfortunately  for 
them  they  made  considerable  noise.  The  first  mate  went  for- 
ward to  see  what  was  the  matter,  and  the  gang  at  once  seized  and 
gagged  him.  The  second  mate  was  treated  in  the  same  way,  and 
when  the  steward  ventured  to  show  his  head  above  the  hatchway 
he,  too,  was  bound,  and  prevented  from  using  his  voice. 

In  the  cabin,  asleep,  were  the  captain,  his  wife  and  three 
children.  They  had  no  consciousness  of  the  presence  of  strangers 
aboard  the  vessel  until  the  two  mates  and  the  steward  had  been 
bound  and  gagged.  Then  Captain  Connauton  cried  out : 

“ Who’s  there  ? ” 

“ The  harbor  police,”  came  the  reply,  as  the  gang  rushed 
toward  the  half-open  stateroom  door.  The  captain  quickly  closed 
the  aperture  and  braced  himself  against  the  door.  One  of  the 
marauders  fired  a heavy  navy  revolver.  The  ball  passed  through 
the  panel  and  wounded  Connauton  in  the  lower  part  of  the  leg. 
The  door  finally  gave  way  to  their  repeated  blows,  and  with  pis- 
tols raised  and  cocked  they  demanded  that  the  captain  should  give 
them  the  $4000  which  they  said  he  had  on  Saturday,  and  all  the 
jewellery  there  was  on  board. 

The  captain  did  not  lose  his  coolness  in  this  emergency.  He 
tried  to  parley  with  his  assailants,  but  they  were  in  no  mood  for 
that.  When  he  hesitated  to  comply  with  their  demands  they 
seized  him  and  dragged  him  about  the  narrow  cabin.  The  wound 
in  the  captain’s  leg  was  causing  him  great  agony,  and  at  last  he  be- 
came submissive  ; for  one  of  the  gang  had  hold  of  Mrs.  Connauton, 
and  with  the  barrel  of  a pistol  against  her  head  was  threatening 
to  blow  her  brains  out  if  she  and  her  husband  did  not  facilitate  the 
thieves’  search  for  valuables.  The  pirates,  however,  secured  only 
$45  in  money,  a diamond  ring,  two  watches,  three  chains,  a ruby 
ring,  and  several  silk  dresses.  They  were  on  the  brig  just  an 
hour,  and  after  cautioning  those  whom  they  had  robbed  and  mal- 


THE  CLERICAL  IMPOSTOR.  I^I 

treated  not  to  give  an  alarm,  on  penalty  of  future  injuries  at  the 
hands  of  the  gang,  they  made  their  departure  and  escaped.  Within 
twenty-four  hours  the  police  of  the  Twenty-fourth  Precinct,  under 
direction  of  Captain  Siebert,  had  arrested  two  of  the  seven  marau- 
ders. Their  names  were  William  Carroll,  a boatman,  aged  twenty- 
one  years,  and  William  Dagan,  a bar-tender,  aged  twenty-three. 

From  year  to  year,  improvements  of  more  or  less  importance 
were  made  in  the  harbor  police  system.  The  wisdom  of  forming 
such  an  organization  had  been  abundantly  shown,  and  the  work 
which  it  did  was  generally  recognized.  Those  respectable  persons 
whose  duties  obliged  them  to  be  in  the  neighborhood  where  such 
wretched  crimes  had  been  committed,  breathed  far  more  freely. 
They  were  no  longer  in  constant  fear  as  they  walked  out  at  night 
lest  some  devilish  assassin  should  leap  out  from  a dark  corner 
and  deal  out  a death-blow.  The  public  looked  back  with  horror 
at  the  state  of  things  as  they  had  existed  in  the  fifties  and  early 
sixties.  The  commissioners  of  police  were  liberal  in  their  expen- 
ditures for  this  purpose. 

The  steam-boat  squad,  which  was  organized  in  1876  and  put 
under  the  command  of  Captain  G.  W.  Gastlin,  still  further  im- 
proved the  police  protection  on  the  waters.  It  succeeded  espe- 
cially in  freeing  the  river  front,  the  steam-boats,  the  ferries,  and 
Castle  Garden  from  that  more  refined  class  of  criminals  known 
as  confidence  men.  Swindlers  had  taken  the  place  largely  of  the 
abandoned  thieves  and  murderers  who  were  their  predecessors  in 
crime.  This  class  of  operators  is  numerous  enough  at  present, 
but  poor  immigrants  and  unsuspecting  travellers  ten  years  ago 
were  “ fleeced  ” much  more  frequently  than  now.  There  were  two 
sharpers,  I remember,  who  passed  themselves  off  for  priests,  and 
so  easily  won  the  confidence  of  foreigners  who  arrived  at  Castle 
Garden.  One  morning  Mazin,  one  of  the  “priests,”  got  into 
conversation  with  an  Italian,  named  Mono,  who  was  about  return- 
ing home,  and  told  him  he  was  going  to  Italy  and  needed  an  inter- 
preter. Mono  accepted  the  position  and  gave  the  alleged  priest 
his  money  for  safe  keeping.  The  clerical  impostor  then  sent  his 
newly  employed  interpreter  to  get  some  cigars.  When  the  latter 
returned,  Mazin  was  gone,  together  with  his  confrere,  Michell. 
Both  were  arrested  afterwards  and  sent  to  State’s  prison. 

A short  time  after  this  occurrence,  Hilza  Von  Zauen,  alias  Le 
Marquis  O’Neil  de  Lassantas,  was  employed  as  a waiter  in  New- 


J52 


DRIVEN  TO  JERSEY. 


port.  In  the  evening  he  was  in  the  habit  of  dressing  himself  as  a 
woman,  in  which  guise  he  became  the  rage  among  the  young 
“ bloods.”  Afterward  he  came  to  New  York  and  was  employed  as 
a waiter  in  a Fifth  Avenue  house,  which  he  robbed  and  then  fled. 
Captain  Gastlin  arrested  him  as  he  was  about  leaving  the  city,  on 
a boat  for  Boston.  The  prisoner  was  sent  to  Sing  Sing. 

The  work  of  the  harbor  police  is  most  difficult.  They  are 
obliged  to  be  out  in  all  kinds  of  weather,  and  in  winter  the  incon- 
veniences are  almost  unbearable.  Captain  William  Schultz  took 
charge  of  the  force  in  1876.  The  “ Seneca  ” was  then  in  need  of 
repairs,  which  she  received.  In  1880  the  little  steamer  burned  in 
some  unknown  manner.  Then  the  “ Moses  Taylor  ” was  used,  but 
she  was  good  for  nothing.  Then  came  the  “ Tiger  Lily  ” ; then 
the  “ Florence,”  a fair  boat.  In  1882,  the  “ Patrol  ” was  built  at  a 
cost  of  $60,000.  She  served  not  only  as  a headquarters  for  the 
harbor  police,  but  is  well  supplied  with  powerful  engines  and 
pumps  throwing  ten  or  twelve  streams.  Large  boats  are  of  no  use 
for  the  best  purposes  of  the  harbor  police,  for  to  do  effective  work 
in  chasing  thieves  in  and  out  of  and  around  wharves  and  piers,  boats 
of  small  size  are  necessary,  and  small  steam-launches  would  over- 
come many  failings  of  the  service.  In  1877,  the  captain  of  the 
“ Seneca  ” discovered  some  thieves  making  away  with  plunder 
in  a small  boat.  With  his  spy-glass  he  could  see  that  the  boat 
was  loaded  with  merchandise,  but  as  soon  as  the  “ Seneca  ” was 
upon  the  thieves,  lo ! there  was  no  load  in  the  boat  at  all.  The 
thieves  had  thrown  it  overboard  when  they  saw  the  police  were 
after  them,  and  they  denied  having  had  a load.  This  is  a trick 
frequently  practised.  Sometimes,  especially  when  the  thieves 
have  aboard  a cargo  of  iron  or  other  booty  which  is  heavy  and  is 
not  likely  to  be  injured  by  the  water,  they  do  not  throw  the  cargo 
overboard,  but  sink  the  boat  and  all  into  the  river.  In  this  way 
they  prevent  their  enemies  from  confiscating  either  the  stolen 
goods  or  the  boat. 

The  harbor  is  not  yet  free  from  pirates,  but  they  have  left  the 
New  York  river  fronts  largely,  and  have  sought  the  less  exposed 
and  less  protected  piers  of  Jersey  City  and  Brooklyn.  Crime  is 
still  committed  there  and  relics  of  the  old  criminal  gangs  are  still 
to  be  found.  They  have-  opportunities  in  their  present  quarters 
which  they  cannot  get  now  in  New  York,  and  unless  checked  in 
time  may  yet  grow  bold  enough  again  to  terrorize  the  harbor. 


CHAPTER  XII. 


ON  DUTY  AT  STATEN  ISLAND. — APPOINTED  INSPECTOR. — THE  “ CAR 

HOOK  MURDER.” THE  ORANGE  RIOTS. — A GOOD  STORY  ABOUT 

JIM  FISKE. — HIS  DEATH. — STEVE  GORDON  AND  THE  $IOOO  BILL. 
“ BOSS  ” TWEED  AND  HIS  RING. HOW  WINANS  WAS  BRIBED. 

While  still  in  command  of  the  Twentieth  Precinct,  where  I re- 
mained for  nearly  six  years,  I was  detailed  for  duty  at  Seguin’s 
Point,  Staten  Island.  The  old  Garibaldi  candle-factory  buildings 
there  were  being  arranged  for  hospital  purposes  by  the  quarantine 
commissioners,  and  the  villagers  energetically  objected  to  these 
proceedings.  They  protested  against  the  establishment  of  hos- 
pitals anywhere  on  the  island.  Indignation  meetings  were  held, 
mobs  assembled  near  the  old  candle  factory  and  threats  were  made 
to  burn  the  buildings.  I was  sent  with  one  hundred  men  to  pro- 
tect this  property.  Although  the  situation  at  times  appeared  to  be 
rather  serious,  no  important  disturbance  occurred.  I remained 
until  the  buildings  were  nearly  completed,  when  the  plan  of  es- 
tablishing a hospital  there  was  abandoned. 

It  must  not  be  regarded  as  egotistical  if  I say  that  by  this 
time  I had  become  familiar  with  all  the  administrative  require- 
ments of  the  police  force,  and  when  Inspector  Daniel  Carpenter 
died  I was  appointed  to  fill  the  vacancy.  My  two  colleagues 
were  James  Leonard  and  George  Dilks,  the  latter  being  office  in- 
spector. Every  other  night  Inspector  Leonard  or  I was  required 
to  be  on  duty  from  6 p.  m.  to  8 a,  m.  We  had  the  city  divided 
into  districts,  Broadway  being  the  dividing  line.  It  was  our  duty 
to  visit  the  various  precincts  at  irregular  intervals,  to  inspect  the 
police  stations,  see  that  the  books  were  properly  kept  and  that  the 
captains,  sergeants  and  others  performed  their  duties.  Each  month 
we  had  to  make  a report  of  our  inspections  to  the  superintendent. 
Having  no  one  to  assist  us,  it  is  no  wonder  we  found  the  work  ar- 
duous, requiring,  as  it  did,  constant  personal  watchfulness. 

During  the  year  1870  several  important  changes  occurred  in  the 
police  force.  In  April,  Mr.  John  A.  Kennedy,  the  superintendent, 

*53 


*54 


THE  “CAR-HOOK  MURDER.” 


resigned,  and  the  vacancy  was  filled  by  the  appointment  of  Cap- 
tain John  Jourdan,  of  the  Sixth  Precinct.  Upon  his  death,  in 
October  of  the  same  year,  he  was  succeeded  by  James  J.  Kelso, 
captain  of  the  detective  force. 

What  is  known  as  the  “car-hook  murder  ” occurred  on  the 
night  of  April  26,  1871.  The  victim  was  Avery  D.  Putnam  ; his  as- 
sailant was  William  Foster,  a horse-car  conductor.  In  company 
with  Madame  Duval  and  her  daughter,  Mr.  Putnam  was  riding 
up  town  on  a Broadway  car.  Foster,  who  was  not  on  duty,  and 
had  been  on  a protracted  debauch,  was  standing  upon  the  front 
platform.  Miss  Duval,  happening  to  look  through  the  front  window, 
Foster  pressed  his  face  closely  against  the  glass  and  made  an  in- 
sulting grimace.  The  ladies  took  no  notice  of  him.  He  then 
opened  the  door.  Mr.  Putnam  remonstrated  with  him,  and  Foster 
replied : 

“I’m  going  as  far  as  you,  and  before  you  get  out  I’ll  give  you 
hell.” 

The  ladies  and  their  escort  stopped  the  car  at  Forty-sixth  Street. 
Putnam  had  one  foot  on  the  rear  platform,  when  Foster,  stepping 
behind  him,  dealt  him  a crushing  blow  on  the  head  with  the  car- 
hook,  felling  him  to  the  ground  and  fracturing  his  skull.  Mad- 
ame Duval  shrieked  for  help,  but  the  driver  of  the  car  whipped  up 
his  horses  and  drove  rapidly  away.  Foster  was  at  liberty  only  un- 
til three  o’clock  the  next  morning.  The  jury  before  whom  he  was 
tried  found  him  guilty  of  murder  in  the  first  degree,  and  he  was 
sentenced  to  death  on  May  25,  one  month  after  the  murder.  A 
reprieve  was  granted,  but  the  sentence  of  the  court  was  eventually 
satisfied  on  March  21,  1873.  His  execution  was  witnessed  by 
about  three  hundred  persons. 

Shortly  after  this  murder,  on  July  12,  1871,  the  famous  Orange 
riots  occurred.  They  happened  just  eight  years  after  the  terrible 
scenes  during  the  draft.  They  resulted  from  the  well-known  an- 
tipathy between  Roman  Catholic  and  Protestant  Irishmen.  The 
twelfth  of  July  is  the  anniversary  of  the  Battle  of  the  Boyne,  and 
on  that  day  it  was  customary  with  the  Orange  societies  to  turn 
out  in  large  numbers  and  march  in  procession.  When  the 
“twelfth”  came  in  1871,  Mr.  A.  Oakey  Hall  was  Mayor,  and  at 
his  instigation  Superintendent  Kelso  issued  an  order  forbidding 
the  parade.  This  at  once  caused  a great  outcry ; the  newspapers 
were  filled  with  arguments  pro  and  co?i , and  finally  the  matter  was 


CAR-HOOK  MURDER. 


JS6 


ORANGE  RIOT. 


brought  officially  to  the  attention  of  Governor  Hoffman.  He  im- 
mediately issued  a proclamation  countermanding  Mayor  Hall’s 
instructions  to  the  police,  assuring  the  Orangemen  that  they 
should  have  ample  police  and  military  protection.  Public  feeling, 
of  course,  ran  high.  Irish  Protestants  and  Roman  Catholics  were 
pitted  against  each  other,  and  it  was  very  evident  that  little  would 
be  needed  to  cause  a serious  disturbance. 

The  day  for  the  parade  arrived.  Wise  because  of  the  lessons 
taught  during  the  draft  riots,  Superintendent  Kelso  massed  the 
whole  of  the  police  force  on  Eighth  Avenue,  near  Lamertine  Hall, 
whence  the  procession  was  to  start.  The  Ninth,  Sixth,  and 
Eighty-fourth  regiments  were  also  assembled  here  under  com- 
mand of  General  Varien,  to  aid  the  police,  should  it  become  nec- 
essary. The  sidewalks  oh  both  sides  of  the  avenue  were  crowded 
with  a yelling  mob,  and  before  the  procession  started  several  fu- 
tile attempts  were  made  to  break  through  the  lines. 

Superintendent  Kelso  placed  me  in  command  of  the  police  at 
this  point,  with  Inspector  Jamieson  (appointed  on  the  death  of 
Leonard)  to  assist  me.  Dividing  the  force  under  me  into  two  bat- 
talions, I directed  Jamieson  to  cover  the  left  or  rear  of  the  pro- 
cession, while  I assumed  command  of  the  right.  And  here,  let 
me  say,  there  were  probably  as  many  policemen  as  Orangemen. 
As  an  advance  guard,  we  threw  out  a body  of  mounted  men  under 
Captain  Wilson. 

The  line  of  march  was  down  town,  and  beyond  some  shouting 
and  hissing  nothing  of  any  moment  occurred  until  Twenty-sixth 
Street  was  reached.  There  a dense  crowd,  including  many  women, 
had  collected.  It  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty  that  my  men 
could  clear  the  way  for  the  Orangemen,  who  were  obliged  to  come 
to  a halt.  At  Twenty-fifth  Street,  Captain  Joseph  Petty  found  it 
necessary  to  order  the  men  under  him  to  charge  the  rioters,  driv- 
ing them  towards  Seventh  Avenue.  Stones  and  other  missiles  were 
now  thrown  from  the  housetops,  not  a few  of  which  struck  members 
of  the  Ninth  Regiment,  who  were  in  position  at  Eighth  Avenue 
and  Twenty-fifth  Street. 

Suddenly  a shot  was  fired  from  a window  near  the  corner  of 
Twenty-fourth  Street.  Other  accounts  say  that  the  shot  came  from 
one  of  the  soldier’s  rifles,  which  was  accidentally  discharged. 
However  that  may  be,  that  shot  was  most  certainly  the  signal  for 
the  horrible  scene  which  immediately  followed. 


ORANGE  PARADE, 


COL.  “ JIM  ” FISKE. 


I5S 

In  an  instant  the  Eighty-fourth  Regiment,  without  waiting  for 
orders,  fired  upon  the  crowd.  Then  came  volleys  from  both  the 
Sixth  and  Ninth  Regiments.  The  sight  which  was  disclosed  when 
the  smoke  cleared  away  was  heart-rending  and  terrible  in  the  ex- 
treme. Dozens  of  bodies — men,  women,  and  children  even — lay 
upon  the  ground  ; the  shrieks  and  groans  of  the  wounded  rang  out 
above  the  noise  caused  by  the  feet  of  the  vast  mob,  now  madly 
trampling  upon  the  weaker  of  the  fugitives  in  the  wild  rush  to  reach 
a place  of  safety.  In  consequence  of  this  reckless,  wholesale 


JAMES  FISKE,  JR. 
(From  a Photograph.) 


shooting  on  the  part  of  the  military,  no  less  than  one  hundred  and 
twenty-eight  persons  were  either  killed  or  injured,  including  a po- 
liceman and  a soldier. 

Colonel  “ Jim  ” Fiske,  who  was  in  command  of  his  regiment,  did 
not  cover  himself  with  unqualified  glory  upon  this  occasion.  He 
was  on  horseback,  and  as  soon  as  the  first  volley  was  fired  he  dis- 
mounted with  considerable  alacrity  and  ran  into  a saloon  on  Eighth 
Avenue.  After  scaling  a back-yard  fence  he  at  length  found  shel- 
ter in  a house  on  Twenty-third  Street.  There  he  rid  himself  of 


A WRESTLING  BOUT. 


59 


his  uniform,  replacing  it  with  citizens’  clothing,  and  made  rapid 
time  to  the  North  River,  where  he  got  aboard  a tug.  The  next 
heard  of  him  was  that  he  was  at  Long  Branch,  but  how  he  got 
there  was  a secret  which  he  would  never  disclose.  Neither  did  he 
ever  give  any  explicit  explanation  of  the  causes  which  led  to  his 
precipitate  flight  from  the  scene  of  the  disturbance.  After  the 
military  had  fired  upon  the  crowd,  and  the  dead  and  wounded  had 
been  removed  to  the  hospitals,  there  was  no  further  trouble.  The 
procession  marched  to  the  Cooper  Institute  in  comparative  silence 
and  disbanded. 

Poor  Fiske  ! Little  he  thought  then  that  within  six  months  he 
would  be  shot  down  on  the  stairway  of  the  Grand  Central  Hotel 
by  his  rival,  Stokes.  This,  however,  occurred  on  the  afternoon  of 
January  6,  1872. 

There  is  an  incident  connected  with  the  trial  of  Stokes  which 
has  hitherto  escaped  publication.  One  of  the  men  on  the  jury  was 
named  James  D.  Centre.  He  was  formerly  a member  of  the  po- 
lice force,  and  is  now,  I believe,  a private  detective.  Grave  suspi- 
cions were  entertained  that  Centre  had  been  bribed  by  the  “ jury 
fixers,”  and  there  were  certainly  good  grounds  for  these  suspicions. 
So  much  so,  in  fact,  that  he  was  arrested  on  a bench-warrant  for 
contempt  of  court,  having  boasted  at  Harry  Hill’s  place  that  he 
would  save  Stokes  from  the  gallows,  at  the  same  time  displaying  a 
large  sum  of  money.  For  this,  after  the  trial,  he  was  sentenced  to 
a short  term  of  imprisonment. 

Some  few  weeks  subsequent  to  his  release,  Centre  visited  a 
liquor  saloon  in  Jersey  City.  He  had  been  drinking  freely,  and 
taking  a $ 1000  bill  out  of  his  pocket,  said  he  could  beat  any  man 
in  the  room  at  wrestling.  After  some  little  talk,  a man  named 
Steve  Gordon  (nicknamed  “ Pirate  ”)  offered  to  try  conclusions 
with  him.  The  stakes  were  the  drinks.  Centre  put  the  $1000 
bill  back  in  his  vest  pocket  and  prepared  for  the  struggle.  A 
space  was  cleared  and  the  two  went  at  it.  Gordon,  though  an  ex- 
pert wrestler,  was  advanced  in  years,  and  was  easily  thrown  by 
Centre.  As  though  ashamed  of  his  defeat,  Gordon  quickly  left 
the  saloon.  In  a few  minutes  Centre  discovered  that  he  had  lost 
his  $1000  bill,  and  at  once  had  the  “ Pirate”  arrested.  No  proof, 
however,  was  forthcoming  at  the  examination  and  Gordon  was  dis- 
charged. 


l6o  “IRVING  WEEK.” 

The  matter  subsequently  came  to  my  ears,  and  meeting  Gordon 
one  day  as  I was  walking  along  West  Street,  I said : 

“Hullo,  Steve;  they  tell  me  you  can’t  wrestle  now.” 

“O  yes,  I can,  a little,”  was  Gordon’s  reply. 

“ But  I understand  Centre  threw  you,  though,”  I rejoined. 

“ Yes,”  said  he  ; “ Centre  throwed  me  ; but  I won  his  motley .” 

While  Mr.  A.  Oakey  Hall  was  Mayor  of  New  York  he  was  inti- 
mate with  Tweed,  Sweeney  and  Connolly  of  the  Tammany  “ Ring,” 
whose  bare-faced  robberies  and  corruptions  in  administering  mu- 
nicipal affairs  left  such  a stain  upon  the  city’s  history.  The 
“ Ring  ” controlled  the  Board  of  Audit,  and  millions  of  dollars 
found  their  way  into  the  pockets  of  Tweed  and  his  followers,  by 
means  of  fraudulent  vouchers. 

Among  the  many  who  asserted  that  the  city  treasury  was  in- 
debted to  them  was  Mr.  James  O’Brien,  formerly  a sheriff.  He 
presented  a bill  of  $200,000  for  unpaid  fees  due  him,  and  the 
Board  of  Audit  refused  to  approve  it.  He  repeatedly  demanded 
payment,  but  always  with  the  same  result — he  could  get  nothing. 
In  some  Way  O’Brien  managed  to  secure  copies  of  the  fraudulent 
vouchers  in  the  comptroller’s  office,  and  handed  them  to  the 
New  York  Times.  That  paper  made  a thorough  investigation, 
and  published  a most  startling  array  of  facts  and  figures,  all  tend- 
ing to  prove  the  existence  of  a most  gigantic  robbery.  The  con- 
spirators were  with  few  exceptions  punished. 

Certain  matters  in  connection  with  what  is  known  as  the  “ Irv- 
ing week  ” of  1871  which  came  to  my  knowledge  will  be  of  inter- 
est. It  was  in  the  winter  of  that  year.  The  Democrats  had  sixty- 
five  votes  in  the  Assembly  and  seventeen  in  the  Senate.  The 
twenty-one  assemblymen  from  New  York  City  were  all  bound  to 
support  Tweed’s  measures.  They  had  obtained  fat  offices,  and  if 
they  did  not  vote  as  he  ordered  them,  their  monthly  visits  to  the 
paymaster’s  office  would  become  things  of  the  past.  Affairs  went 
on  very  smoothly  until  “Jim”  Irving  assaulted  Smith  Weed  by 
striking  him  in  the  face,  and  was  obliged  to  resign  from  the  Assem- 
bly. Previous  to  this  the  Democrats  had  been  able  to  pass  any 
measures  they  pleased,  having  just  the  requisite  majority  in  both 
branches.  But  when  Irving  resigned  there  came  a dead-lock. 
Whenever  an  attempt  was  made  to  pass  a bill  the  vote  stood  : 
Democrats,  64;  Republicans,  63. 

Bad  feeHng  began  to  show  itself,  and  so  bitter  was  the  strife 


AT  ALBANY. 


161 


that  Republicans  and  Democrats  would  not  affiliate.  When  asked 
what  he  thought  about  the  situation,  Sweeney  simply  remarked : 

“ We  have  been  in  worse  snaps  than  this,  and  got  out  of  them 
all  right.” 

The  Republicans  held  a caucus,  and  decided  to  force  a vote  in 
the  Assembly  on  certain  measures  upon  which  they  knew  Tweed 
had  set  his  heart.  One  of  the  Albany  evening  newspapers  pub- 
lished the  resolutions  passed  by  the  Republicans  at  their  caucus, 
signed  by  every  one  of  the  sixty-three. 

The  next  day  the  Assembly  Chamber  was  filled  to  overflowing. 
Four  bills,  which  would  decide  Tweed’s  fate,  were  called  up  for 
consideration.  A motion  was  made  to  suspend  the  usual  order  of 
business.  This  was  carried,  and  before  the  spectators  had  re- 
covered from  their  surprise  the  first  of  the  bills  was  read  a third 
time,  and  the  call  of  the  roll  began.  As  the  first  name  was  called, 
Tweed  walked  into  the  gallery  and  pushed  his  way  to  the  front. 
With  his  small  gray  eyes  glittering  maliciously,  and  his  arms 
folded  across  his  chest,  he  stood  looking  down  upon  the  Assembly. 
Not  a movement  on  the  floor  escaped  his  notice.  As  name  after 
name  was  called  his  head  was  thrust  forward  and  inclined  on  one 
side,  the  more  easily  to  hear  the  response. 

When  the  “ B’s  ” were  reached,  he  rested  his  hands  on  the  rail 
and  leaned  over.  The  “ B ” who  had  been  expected  to  vote  in 
favor  of  the  bill  cast  a decided  “ No.”  A faint  flush,  as  of  dis- 
appointment, swept  over  the  face  of  the  “ Boss,”  and  a word, 
which  sounded  very  much  like  “ damnation,”  came  from  between 
his  lips.  He  was  calm  again  in  an  instant  and  resumed  his  for- 
mer position.  Finally  came  the  name  of  “ Winans.”  Throughout 
the  session,  Winans  had  been  the  most  exacting  of  Republicans. 
He  had  never  failed  to  add  a bitter  word  to  every  discussion,  de- 
nouncing the  rough-shod  methods  of  the  Democrats.  He  now 
voted  “ Aye,”  and  made  a short  speech  explaining  his  reasons  for 
voting  with  the  Democrats.  The  effect  upon  those  in  the  Cham- 
ber was  electrical.  Those  in  the  galleries  cheered  loudly  and  the 
Democrats  on  the  floor  jumped  to  their  feet  in  a body.  The  Re- 
publicans were  completely  dumbfounded,  and  remained  motion- 
less in  their  seats  like  statues. 

Truly  it  was  a sad  day  for  the  Republicans  ; but  what  of  the 
author  of  their  defeat — Winans  ? He  became  an  outcast ; every- 
one— Democrats  and  Republicans  alike — avoided  him  as  though 

T I 


162 


A SLEIGH  RIDE. 


he  had  been  a leper.  Previous  to  uttering  that  blighting  “ Aye  ” 
he  had  been  popular  with  all  persons  he  came  in  contact  with. 
The  morning  after  the  vote  Winans  was  a changed  man ; he  had 
aged  in  a single  night,  and  acted  during  the  remainder  of  the 
session  as  though  he  were  suffering  from  a horrible  nightmare. 

Was  Winans  bribed  ? He  always  denied  that  he  was,  but  ad- 
mitted that  Gould  and  Fiske  had  compelled  him  to  act  as  he  did. 
He  held  a position  under  them  on  the  Erie  Railroad,  he  said,  and 
was  threatened  with  discharge  if  he  failed  to  obey  their  behests. 

The  amount  which  Winans’s  vote  cost  has  never  been  made  pub- 
lic, but  a little  circumstance  which  occurred  the  night  before  the 
memorable  scene  doubtless  had  something  to  do  with  binding  him 
so  closely  to  the  interests  of  Tweed.  That  “ little  circumstance  ” 
was  this  : About  four  o’clock  in  the  morning  a covered  sleigh 
was  driven  up  near  the  railroad  track  adjoining  the  Delavan 
House  at  Albany,  there  being  no  depot  there  then.  A man  got 
into  this  sleigh  and  was  driven  down  the  road  which  leads  along 
the  canal  to  Troy.  There  was  a negro  on  the  box,  and  alongside 
of  him,  wearing  an  overcoat  with  its  collar  nearly  hiding  his  head, 
was  a New  York  assemblyman  who  shall  be  nameless.  Before 
the  strange  man  entered  the  sleigh  at  the  Delavan  House  there 
were  two  others  in  it.  One  was  “Tom”  Fields  and  the  other  a 
well-known  lobbyist.  , 

The  sleigh  was  driven  down  the  dark  road  for  a short  distance, 
and  then  came  to  a stop  in  one  of  the  side  streets.  Here  the 
New  York  assemblyman  alighted.  An  hour  later  he  was  in  his 
room.  It  was  during  the  drive  that  the  bribery  was  consummated. 
Some  say  the  assemblyman  was  paid  $ 100,000  in  small  bills  for 
his  work,  but  the  amount  was  generally  believed  to  be  $75,000. 
The  negro  driver  never  uttered  a word  on  the  subject ; but  “ Tom  ” 
Fields  was  questioned  about  it  by  a police  official  who  had  seen 
the  assemblyman  get  out  of  the  sleigh  and  had  caught  a glimpse 
of  Fields’s  face  at  the  same  time.  Fields  replied  with  a laugh: 

“Why,  I’m  subject  to  rheumatism,  and  when  I drink  a good  deal 
of  champagne  I always  take  a ride  before  going  to  bed — my  doc- 
tor told  me  to  take  one.” 

Who  that  doctor  was  can  easily  be  imagined.  It  was  William  M. 
Tweed.  Years  afterwards  “ Jim  ” Fiske  once  remarked  to  a well- 
known  newspaper  writer  : 

“ Winans  was  too  good  a fellow  to  be  killed  off  the  way  he  was 


BRIBERY. 


lC3 

at  Albany  ; but  when  you’re  in  a tight  place  there’s  nothing  one 
won’t  risk  to  get  out  of  it.  The  only  trouble  with  Winans  was 
that  he  had  to  do  something  everybody  knew  about.  Fellows  in 
that  Legislature  who  did  worse  than  he  did  are  now  respected 
citizens.  But  they  didn’t  happen  to  be  found  out.” 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


SURPRISED  BY  NIGHT. HOW  THEY  WERE  TO  “ DO  IT.” BROCKWAY, 

THE  COUNTERFEITER. THE  PEDLER. WOMAN’S  LOVE  OF 

FINERY. A MILLION-DOLLAR  SWINDLE. ABOARD  THE  “ THU- 
RINGIA.”— TWO  IMPERFECT  BILLS. — SENTENCED  FOR  LIFE. A 

SWINDLER’S  CAREER. — AN  UNSUSPECTING  CATTLE  DROVER. — 
AFTER  TIFFANY’S  DIAMONDS. 

While  I was  in  charge  of  the  detective  force,  a curious  and 
somewhat  startling  incident  occurred.  Sauntering  along  Broad- 
way one  day,  a detective  happened  to  see  a man  named  Cart- 
wright, whom  he  knew  to  be  a counterfeiter.  Cartwright  had  as- 
sured us  some  time  before  that  he  had  “retired  from  business,” 
but  it  nevertheless  occurred  to  the  detective  that  it  might  be 
worth  while  to  find  out  for  himself  if  the  fellow  was  still  engaged 
in  his  unlawful  occupation. 

Following  him  across  the  Harlem  River  into  Westchester  County, 
the  officer  reached  a spot  near  the  Harlem  Railroad  company’s 
tracks  where  there  were  but  few  dwellings.  Cartwright  there  en- 
tered a frame  house.  This  meeting  and  its  result  were  reported 
to  me.  There  was  nothing  particularly  suspicious  in  Cartwright’s 
proceedings ; still  I deemed  it  advisable  to  watch  the  house,  and 
so  sent  two  or  three  men  to  remain  near  it  for  several  nights. 
After  waiting  patiently  for  a week,  they  saw  enough  to  convince 
them  that  “work”  was  carried  on  at  the  place. 

I then  joined  the  party  of  watchers,  and  determined  to  force  an 
entrance  into  the  house.  Dividing  my  men  into  two  parties,  I 
stationed  one  in  the  rear  and  the  other  in  front  of  the  building. 
We  waited  until  the  lights  were  extinguished. 

We  had  been  able  to  locate  the  occupants  of  the  house  by  as- 
suming that  they  slept  in  the  rooms  where  we  last  saw  the  lights. 

Detective  Sampson  and  I then  advanced  to  the  rear  door,  while 
the  two  other  detectives  were  at  the  front.  At  a signal  a rush  was 
made  for  the  doors.  Sampson  and  I easily  burst  open  the  rear  one, 
as  it  was  not  very  strongly  fastened,  and,  lanterns  in  hand,  made 

164 


“ you’re  my  prisoner.”  165 

for  a room  on  the  left  of  the  hall.  The  door  was  open  and  our 
sudden  entrance  awoke  the  occupant.  Without  a moment’s  hesita- 
tion he  reached  out  his  hand  towards  a pistol  which  lay  on  a stand 
near  his  bed.  Before  he  could  grasp  it  we  both  sprang  upon  him, 
while  Sampson,  pressing  the  cold  muzzle  of  a revolver  against  the 
fellow’s  head,  ordered  him  to  give  up  his  weapon  and  lie  quietly. 
He  did  ; and  after  securing  him  we  went  up  stairs  to  the  room  in 
which  we  had  last  noticed  a light.  Here  we  found  another  man. 

“ Hullo  ! ” he  shouted,  apparently  guessing  our  errand  ; “ I’m 
only  a visitor  here.” 

“ Can’t  help  that,”  was  my  unconsoling  reply ; “ you’re  my 
prisoner.” 

Somewhat  crestfallen,  he  remarked  : “ Well,  anyhow,  you’ll  allow 
me  to  put  on  a clean  shirt.”  With  that  he  stepped  to  a bureau 
which  stood  against  one  side  of  the  room,  took  out  a snowy  white 
garment  and  put  it  on. 

Bureaus,  under  certain  circumstances,  have  a strong  fascination 
for  me.  This  one  had,  so  giving  in  to  the  feeling  I searched  it. 
Five  other  shirts  were  carefully  folded  in  a drawer.  Under  them 
I got  what  I wanted:  a plate  for  making  counterfeit  money. 

In  the  mean  time  I had  been  closely  watching  the  gentleman 
with  the  clean  shirt,  and  noticed  that  he  kept  glancing  at  the  fire- 
place every  now  and  then  in  a furtive  manner.  In  fact,  it  seemed 
to  have  a very  peculiar  attraction  for  him.  Consequently  it  inter- 
ested me  sd  greatly  that  I determined  on  a closer  examination. 
A quantity  of  burnt  paper  on  the  hearth  looked  like  business. 
Brushing  the  ashes  carefully  away  I discovered  a number  of 
partly  consumed  counterfeit  ten-dollar  bills  representing  those  of 
the  Ogdensburg  Bank.  Evidently  they  had  not  been  satisfactory 
impressions,  and  so  had  been  destroyed.  Searching  further  we 
secured  a large  quantity  of  excellent  specimens  of  these  ten-dollar 
bills  which  were  finished,  including  the  signature.  At  the  foot  of 
a small  pear  tree  in  the  garden  we  found  another  plate. 

The  counterfeiters  were  tried  and  convicted  shortly  afterwards, 
before  Judge  Robertson  at  White  Plains. 

I had  a conversation  with  the  men  after  their  conviction,  and 
they  informed  me  of  the  unique  and  ingenious  device  with  which 
they  had  expected  to  “ work  off  ” the  counterfeit  bills.  A big  prize 
fight  was  just  about  to  occur,  and  they  intended  to  bet  $20,000 
on  each  of  the  contestants.  Of  course,  whatever  might  have  been 


/ 

1 66  COUNTERFEIT  GOLD. 

the  result  of  the  fight,  the  counterfeiters  would  have  obtained 
$20,000  in  good  money. 

At  this  time  a number  of  complaints  were  made  to  me  regard- 
ing counterfeit  gold  dollar  and  two-dollar-and-a-half  coins  which 
were  circulating.  Some  specimens  were  shown  me.  They 
showed  great  skill  in  their  making.  They  were  so  well  finished 
indeed  that  it  was  not  at  all  surprising  that  so  many  persons 
were  deceived. 

Now  it  is  by  no  means  easy  to  trace  counterfeit  money  to  its 
source.  In  the  first  place  it  is  necessary  to  discover  whether  its 
circulation  is  restricted  to  one  locality.  The  coin  or  bill  may 
pass  through  a great  many  hands  before  its  spurious  character  is 
discovered,  and  even  therf  no  one  is  quite  willing  to  bear  the  loss 
and  so  tries  to  pass  it  on.  This  is  human  nature.  Then  again  a 
man  may  take  a counterfeit  coin  from  a customer  who  has  re- 
ceived it  in  good  faith,  and  who  has  perhaps  handled  large  amounts 
of  money.  The  latter,  of  course,  if  the  character  of  the  coin  be 
pointed  out,  will  probably  insist  that  the  coin  given  is  genuine. 
Long  and  tedious  research  is  necessary  to  find  out  how  innocent 
each  man  is  in  these  transactions  and  who  may  or  may  not  be  the 
counterfeiter.  The  one  who  first  passed  the  false  coin  of  course 
uses  every  precaution  to  conceal  his  identity. 

In  these  coin  counterfeiting  cases  I finally  came  to  the  conclusion, 
that  the  locality  where  the  work  was  carried  on  was  on  the  east 
side  of  the  city.  Many  of  the  coins  were  found  in  the  omnibuses, 
and  the  dollar  pieces  were  frequently  passed  by  the  drivers  in 
making  change.  Cautious  detective  work  was  begun  and  ulti- 
mately success  began  to  crown  our  efforts. 

We  found  a man  nick  named  “Tom  Hyer,”  who  seemed  to  have 
some  knowledge  of  the  matter.  Hyer  intimated  to  some  of  the 
officers  that  he  had  an  idea  where  the  “ stuff  ” could  be  bought. 

After  questioning  him  I secured  his  services,  undertaking  to  pay 
his  expenses  and  for  his  time.  For  two  days  I saw  nothing  of  him. 
At  the  end  of  that  time  he  reported  to  me  that  for  $30  he  could 
buy  $100  worth  of  the  counterfeits  we  were  after.  “A  man,”  he 
said,  “has  agreed  to  meet  me  at  a certain  place  near  Chatham 
Square.  I must  have  $30.  He  will  have  the  $100  of  his  money 
and  will  make  an  exchange  in  the  street,  at  two  o’clock  to-morrow.” 

“All  right,”  I said,  “you  shall  have  the  money.” 

With  the  $30  in  his  pocket  Hyer  left  the  office.  I had  him 


•'‘iVe  got  the  money.” 


167 


“shadowed”  to  his  home.  Next  day  he  was  seen  by  my  detec- 
tives to  go  to  Chatham  Square,  where,  they  informed  me,  a short, 
dark-complexioned  man  met  Hver  and  the  exchange  of  coin  took 
place.  Officer  John  McCord  subsequently  followed  the  man  who 
had  passed  the  counterfeits.  Again  Hyer  came  to  the  office  and 
reported  the  matter  to  me,  saying : 

“ I’ve  got  the  money.” 

Whoever  Hyer  was  or  whatever  might  be  his  character,  his  ver- 
sion of  the  story  agreed  with  that  of  the  detective. 

Two  days  afterwards  McCord  said  to  me  : “ I witnessed  the  ex- 
change and  then  followed  the  man  the  rest  of  the  afternoon. 
There  was  nothing  suspicious  about  his  actions  that  day.  At  ten 
o’clock  at  night  he  went  into  a house  in  the  Fifth  Ward,  and  as  he 
did  not  come  out  again  I suppose  he  slept  there.  I followed  him 
the  next  day.  He  walked  down  Beekman  Street  and  went  into  a 
store  where  sheet-metal  is  sold,  then  he  crossed  Fulton  Ferry  to 
Brooklyn  and  got  on  a Myrtle  Avenue  car.  I went  to  a hackman 
and  hired  his  carriage ; the  driver  got  inside,  while  I took  off  my 
coat,  rolled  up  my  sleeves,  jumped  on  the  box  and  followed  that 
car.  After  awhile  the  man  got  out  and  went  into  a drug  store, 
and  then  took  another  car.  I drove  after  him  for  about  a mile, 
when  he  left  the  car  and  proceeded  on  foot.  I dismissed  the 
hack,  and  kept  my  man  in  view  as  he  went  towards  a house  on  the 
outskirts  of  Brooklyn.  I cut  across  the  open  fields,  and,  ap- 
proaching the  dwelling,  hid  behind  a fence  and  waited,  but  I saw 
no  more  of  him  after  that.  I left  this  morning  to  report  the  state 
of  affairs.” 

Officer  McCord  asked  for  help,  so  two  men  were  sent  to  him. 
For  four  days  the  detectives  watched,  but  nothing  remarkable 
occurred.  The  man  who  sold  the  counterfeit  coin  would  go  to 
New  York  and  return  again.  While  he  was  absent  the  time  was 
spent  in  studying  the  house  and  its  inmates,  and  so  was  not  wasted. 
For  instance,  we  discovered  that  the  house  was  protected  with 
many  locks,  bolts  and  bars.  The  butcher,  baker,  grocer  and 
milkman  came  with  the  usual  supplies,  but  were  not  admitted. 
The  stores  were  taken  in  at  the  basement  by  a woman  who  used  a 
great  deal  of  precaution.  These  tradespeople  would  knock,  and 
the  door,  which  had  a sliding  chain,  would  be  cautiously  opened. 

As  the  chase  was  now  becoming  interesting  I joined  the  party, 
and  we  discussed  the  best  means  of  effecting  an  entrance.  We 


THE  PROPERTY-CLERK  S OUTFIT. 


/ 


68 


were  satisfied  that  the  counterfeit  coin  was  being  made  in  the  house. 
We,  of  course,  must  arrest  the  “gang”  with  their  tools.  They 
must  not  be  allowed  to  carry  off  their  machinery,  nor  must  they 
have  the  opportunity  of  concealing  their  dies.  My  desire  was  to 
break  up  the  concern,  root  and  branch.  To  employ  brute  force 
was  entirely  out  of  the  question.  What  then  was  the  best  method 
of  accomplishing  the  object  ? The  fact  that  the  doorkeeper  was 
of  the  gentler  sex  was  something  in  our  favor.  Could  no  persua- 
sive means  be  used  to  induce  her  to  admit  us  ? I remembered 
that  Walpole  is  reported  to  have  said,  with  regard  to  political 
bribes,  that  he  never  saw  but  one  woman  who  refused  gold ; and 
diamonds  captured  her.  Acting  in  a measure  upon  the  above  sug- 
gestion, we  attired  Mr.  Thomas  Sampson  as  a pedler.  He  was 
dressed  in  a long  black  coat,  and  was  provided  with  a capacious 
blue  paper  box.  Neatly  packed  in  it  were  such  articles  as  were 
calculated  to  excite  feminine  cupidity.  The  property-clerk  at 
headquarters  furnished  Sampson  with  his  stock  in  trade.  And 
it  may  be  as  well  to  say  that  a police  property-clerk  in  New  York 
can  produce  any  description  of  outfit  on  very  short  notice,  from  a 
needle  to  an  anchor. 

Thus  disguised,  Sampson  knocked  at  the  basement  door.  It 
was  opened  a little  way,  the  chain  still  remaining  up.  The  pale 
face  of  a woman  was  visible. 

“ What  is  it  ? ” she  asked,  sharply  and  suspiciously. 

“ Oh  ! mine  tear  madam,  I vas  a trafflin  merchant,  a pedler.  I 
haf  some  beautiful  tings  vot  I vill  sold  you,- mine  tear,”  at  the 
same  time  Sampson  flourished  an  embroidered  handkerchief 
before  the  woman’s  eyes. 

She  looked  longingly  at  the  article,  but  answered,  “ No,”  and 
was  about  to  close  the  door  in  his  face. 

“ Don’t  go  for  to  shut  the  door,  mine  tear.  I haf  here  a real 
beauty,”  said  Sampson,  now  producing  a very  handsome  cream- 
colored  crepe  shawl,  elaborately  embroidered.  “ See  how  vresh  and 
nize  it  vas,  my  tear.  It  vas  vorth  a huntred  tollars.  I vill  sold  it 
to  you — only  to  you,  for  feefty.  Dirt  sheep,  mine  tear,  dirt  sheep. 
Shoost  look  at  eet.” 

The  woman  stretched  out  her  hand  to  touch  the  delicate  fabric. 

“ Dry  it  on,  my  tear.  If  I vas  to  go  round  I might  get  some- 
tings  vat  it  was  vorth.  Say  twenty-five  tollars  ! ” 

The  bait  was  too  much  for  the  woman.  She  loosed  the  chain, 


] 


169 


/ 


1*70  FAIRLY  CAUGHT. 

made  one  step  outside  the  door,  and  Sampson  was  inside  the 
house  before  she  realized  the  situation. 

Two  of  the  officers  at  once  rushed  from  their  concealment  and 
ran  to  the  rear  of  the  house.  I joined  Sampson,  who  with  pistol 
in  hand  was  ready  for  any  emergency.  Running  through  to  the 
back  of  the  house  I let  in  the  two  other  men,  and  with  this  force  ad- 
mitted everything  was  in  our  hands.  There  was  no  show  of  fight. 
The  prisoners  were  as  docile  as  lambs.  Criminals  know  that 
when  fairly  caught,  to  fight  only  makes  matters  worse. 

We  found  four  persons  engaged  in  making  this  false  money, 
Brockway,  Thomas,  another  man  and  the  woman  who  coveted  the 
crepe  shawl.  A press  complete  in  every  particular  was  found  in  the 
basement.  Brockway  was  cool  about  the  matter.  Going  to  a 
bureau  he  took  out  of  a drawer  a thousand  dollars  in  good  bank 
bills,  and  offering  them  to  me,  said  : 

“If  you  will  let  me  off  I’ll  give  you  a thousand  dollars  more.” 

He  had  the  assurance  to  produce  his  bank  book,  showing  there 
was  something  more  than  that  amount  to  his  credit. 

“Let  one  of  your  men  go  to  the  savings  bank  and  draw  out  the 
money,”  he  remarked.  “I  will  give  you  that  provided  you  make 
no  search.” 

I,  of  course,  refused,  and  we  were  about  to  ransack  the  premises, 
when  Brockway  remarked:  “Very  well,  I will  save  you  a great 
deal  of  trouble.” 

He  wTent  to  another  bureau  and  exhibited  a quantity  of  counter- 
feit one-dollar  and  two-dollar-and-a-half  gold  pieces.  Then  from 
a secret  drawer  he  produced  the  dies.  We  took  nothing  for 
granted,  however.  Long  strips  of  metal  were  found  in  the  cellar 
from  which  the  blanks  had  been  punched.  By  counting  these 
holes  we  were  satisfied  that  Brockway  had  manufactured  not  less 
than  a hundred  thousand  dollars  in  spurious  coin.  We  took  pos- 
session of  everything,  and  carried  prisoners  and  machinery  to 
headquarters.  We  found  the  silver  imitations  were  poor,  only  a 
few  spurious  half-dollars  were  among  them  ; the  gold  coins,  how- 
ever, were  works  of  art. 

The  prisoners  were  tried  in  the  United  States  court.  We  had 
no  evidence  against  one  of  the  men,  and  he  was  released ; but  the 
others  were  sentenced  and  sent  to  prison.  The  woman  pretended 
to  be  Brockway’s  wife,  and  claimed  that  she  acted  as  a counter- 
feiter under  compulsion;  but  she  could  not  prove  it,  and  was  put 


\ 

\ 


I7I 


THE  COUNTERFEITERS’  DEN. 


172 


MORNING  IN  THE  HARBOR. 


on  trial.  Brockway  was  more  than  fifty  years  of  age,  and  was  tall 
and  slim.  With  the  exception  of  Marcus  Cicero  Stanly,  no  one 
seems  to  have  been  personally  acquainted  with  him. 

I had  the  dies  put  in  a neat  velvet  case  and  took  them  to  Wash- 
ington, where  they  are  to  be  found  to-day  among  the  curiosities  of 
counterfeiting.  The  Government  of  the  United  States,  it  might  be 
thought,  would  have  paid  the  expenses  incurred  in  arresting  the 
Brockway  party,  but  such  was  not  the  case.  The  cost  was  de- 
frayed by  the  New  York  Police  Department.  It  was  rumored  that 
the  woman  was  a confirmed  opium-eater,  but  this  had  not  appar- 
ently blunted  her  appreciation  of  what  was  really  a superb  china 
crepe  shawl. 

George  MacDonnell  was  the  most  expert  and  persistent  forger 
and  confidence  man  that  ever  exercised  his  cunning  on  unsuspect- 
ing humanity  in  this  country  and  in  Europe.  Detection,  capture, 
and  even  imprisonment  were  no  restraining  influences  on  the 
development  of  this  man’s  knavish  propensities.  To  paraphrase 
Shakespeare’s  phrase,  he  was  a rascal,  take  him  all  in  all;  I ne’er 
shall  look  upon  his  like  again.  Failure  goaded  him  to  new  en- 
deavors ; success  nerved  him.  That  he  was  shrewd,  cautious, 
determined  and  bold  goes  without  saying.  It  was  a long  while 
before  eager  justice  got  a tight  grip  upon  this  polished  villain,  but 
when  once  it  did  there  was  no  letting  up,  and  MacDonnell  was 
doomed  to  pass  the  remainder  of  his  life  in  prison  stripes.  His 
last  crime  was  his  greatest,  for  it  was  no  other  than  swindling  the 
Bank  of  England  out  of  one  million  dollars. 

Gray  clouds  were  hanging  over  New  York  harbor  one  summer’s 
morning  in  1873.  The  sun  was  just  making  his  appearance  over 
the  bastions  of  Fort  Hamilton,  and  his  first  rays  shone  full  in  the 
face  of  a man  who  was  slowly  pacing  up  and  down  the  dock  in 
front  of  the  health  officer’s  house  at  Quarantine.  Something  was 
evidently  preying  on  the  man’s  mind.  A close  observer  would 
have  noticed  lines  of  care  on  his  forehead.  Every  now  and  then 
his  eyes  glanced  furtively  from  beneath  his  brow  and  took  in  the 
scope  of  the  harbor.  They  rested  for  a moment  upon  the  huge 
ocean  steamships  with  their  black  hulls  that  lay  anchored  a dozen 
rods  or  so  from  shore  ; they  scanned  the  waters  reaching  down 
into  the  lower  bay,  and  noticed  in  the  distance  the  little  cloud  of 
black  smoke  which  betokened  the  approach  of  another  ocean  racer. 
Then  they  turned  quickly  in  the  direction  of  the  health  officer’s 


AT  QUARANTINE. 


173 


house,  which  sat  prettily  among  the  trees  of  the  neighboring  bluff. 
Suddenly  the  man’s  expression  brightened,  as  from  above  he  heard 
a sound  of  feet  and  beheld  the  deputy  health  officer  walking  down 
the  path.  A few  minutes  later  a steam  tug  left  the  dock  and  puffed 
rapidly  out  to  the  steamships  which  lay  at  rest  in  the  stream. 
The  strange  man  on  the  dock  and  the  deputy  health  officer  were 
the  tug’s  only  passengers.  They  boarded  the  different  steamers, 
and  while  the  Government  officer  examined  critically  for  signs  of 
disease  among  the  incoming  passengers,  his  companion  was  busily 
studying  their  faces. 

“ Did  you  find  your  man  ? ” the  deputy  asked,  as  the  two 
returned  to  the  tug  and  were  taken  back  to  shore. 

“ No,”  answered  the  detective,  for  such  he  was.  “ He  isn’t  on 
those  vessels.” 

Other  steamers  came  into  port  during  the  day,  and  this  inspec- 
tion was  repeated.  The  sun  reached  its  zenith,  sank  slowly  in  the 
west,  and  was  finally  gilding  Fort  Hamilton  from  over  in  the 
Jersey  marshes. 

At  this  time  another  steamer  came  through  the  Narrows 
and  anchored  off  Quarantine.  Again  the  deputy  health  offi- 
cer and  the  detective  went  out  to  board  her.  She  was  the  “ Thu- 
ringia.” The  passengers  were  called  up  for  examination,  and 
among  the  number  was  one  who  answered  the  description  of  George 
MacDonnell,  the  object  of  the  detective’s  search. 

“ You  are  my  prisoner,”  said  the  detective,  quietly. 

The  man  started  back,  and  then  in  apparent  indignation  de- 
manded, “What  do  you  mean,  sir?  I want  to  know  the  meaning 
of  this  insult.” 

MacDonnell,  the  forger,  was  tall,  well-built  and  very  handsome. 
His  voice  was  gentle,  except  when  he  was  angry,  and  he  possessed 
a ready  vocabulary.  He  had  a delicately  fair  skin,  and  wore  a 
dark  brown  beard.  He  was  not  the  man  you  would  have  picked 
out  for  a criminal.  But  the  detective’s  experience  had  taught  him 
to  be  no  respecter  of  appearances,  and  even  when  his  distin- 
guished prisoner  professed  to  be  greatly  insulted,  and  threatened 
in  loud  tones  to  make  the  officer  “ pay  bitterly  for  this  outrage,”  as 
he  called  it,  the  detective  had  no  idea  of  letting  him  go.  Mac- 
Donnell was  taken  to  jail  as  soon  as  the  “ Thuringia  ” landed  at 
her  pier,  and  was  held  for  examination. 

The  clever  bit  of  forgery  of  which  he  was  accused  was  accom- 


WARM  WELCOME. 


A “ BUSINESS  ’’  FIRM. 


J75 


plished  in  this  manner:  After  having  prospered  for  years  in  their 
devices  for  swindling,  MacDonnell  and  three  associates,  Austin 
and  Biron  Bidwell,  brothers,  and  Edwin  Noyes,  conceived  the 
gigantic  scheme  of  defrauding  the  Bank  of  England  out  of  many 
hundred  thousands  of  dollars.  The  reputation  of  the  bank  for 
conservatism  and  shrewdness  in  management  did  not  warn  them. 
They  knew  that  untold  millions  were  there  to  steal,  and  they 
boldly  matched  their  wits  against  those  of  the  bank  officers.  Their 
plans  were  well  laid.  They  went  at  their  task  deliberately  and 
cautiously.  They  established  an  office  in  London,  and  put  a large 
amount  of  money  in  their  business.  The  firm’s  name  was  “ Mac- 
Donnell & Co.,”  and  they  deposited  English  gold  in  the  vaults  of 
the  Bank  of  England.  They  were  in  no  hurry  to  reap  the  rewards 
of  their  iniquitous  conspiracy.  They  carried  on  a legitimate  busi- 
ness for  months,  and  made  a reputation  for  honesty  and  fair  deal- 
ing. George  MacDonnell  opened  an  account  with  the  western 
branch  of  the  bank,  and  waited  patiently  for  an  opportunity  to 
execute  his  forgeries.  When  the  conspirators  thought  the  time 
had  come,  they  set  to  work  to  manufacture  the  forged  bills.  This 
required  great  ingenuity  and  labor.  It  was  necessary  to  copy 
exactly,  water  marks  and  all,  the  particular  kind  of  paper  used  by 
the  various  firms  upon  which  they  intended  to  draw  the  bills. 
This  was  done  so  carefully  and  perfectly,  that  when  the  forgeries 
were  at  last  discovered  it  was  not  because  the  genuineness  of  the 
bills  was  questioned.  They  were  payable  in  three  months,  and 
the  forgers  had  no  difficulty  in  discounting  them.  But  by  a very 
careless  blunder,  MacDonnell  and  his  associates  forgot  to  put  the 
date  of  acceptance  on  two  of  the  bills  which  they  presented  at  the 
bank,  and  the  firms  whose  names  were  upon  the  paper  were  asked 
by  the  bank  officers  to  rectify  the  supposed  mistake.  Then  of 
course  the  bills  were  pronounced  forgeries. 

It  was  too  late,  however,  to  capture  the  forgers.  They  had 
taken  alarm  and  fled  with  nearly  a million  dollars,  the  earnings  of 
their  conspiracy.  MacDonnell  was  supposed  to  have  gone  to  New 
York,  and  a minute  description  of  him  was  cabled  thither.  It  was 
for  the  man  of  this  description  that  the  detective  at  Quarantine 
searched  all  incoming  vessels,  and  at  last  found  him  on  the 
“Thuringia.”  MacDonnell’s  associates  were  afterwards  discov- 
ered in  this  country,  and  all  four  were  taken  to  London.  On 
August  26,  1873,  in  the  Old  Bailey  Court,  they  were  convicted 


176 


WESTERN  SOCIABILITY. 


and  sentenced  to  hard  labor  for  life.  By  good  fortune  the  bank 
officers  recovered  the  bulk  of  the  stolen  money. 

MacDonnell  was  well  known  to  the  police  of  this  country.  Pre- 
vious to  this,  his  last  crime,  he  had  performed  many  daring  swind- 
ling operations  on  this  side  the  water.  Once,  while  on  his  way  to 
New  York  from  the  West,  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  a good- 
natured  cattle  drover.  MacDonnell  called  into  play  his  most  fas- 
cinating manners,  talked  brilliantly,  and  made  a deep  impression 
on  the  Westerner.  Both  drank  frequently  from  the  flask  of  excel- 
lent brandy  which  the  forger  carried  with  him,  and  soon  the  cattle- 
man was  sound  asleep.  It  was  a very  easy  matter  then  for  Mac- 
Donnell to  take  his  companion’s  pocket-book.  This  he  did,  and 
was  richer  by  $2600.  He  placed  the  money  in  some  newspapers 
he  had  with  him,  and  addressing  them  to  a fictitious  name  in  this 
city  posted  them  at  the  next  station. 

By  the  time  the  drover  awoke  the  train  was  at  a junction,  and 
he  invited  MacDonnell  to  take  luncheon  with  him.  The  two  ate, 
and  when  they  had  finished  the  drover  took  out  his  pocket-book  to 
pay  the  bill.  He  found  to  his  astonishment  that  it  was  empty. 
He  turned  to  his  companion  and  said  : 

“ I had  $2600  in  that  pocket-book  ; where  is  it?  ” 

“ Do  you  accuse  me  of  taking  it  ? ” asked  MacDonnell  indig- 
nantly, and  then  insisted  upon  being  searched.  This  was  done,  but 
nothing  of  course  was  found.  The  cattleman  was  greatly  hum- 
bled, and  naturally  ashamed  of  himself  for  his  suspicions.  During 
the  rest  of  his  journey  he  treated  MacDonnell  with  the  greatest 
courtesy,  and  apologized  over  and  over  again  for  his  rudeness.  At 
Buffalo  they  parted  the  best  of  friends.  MacDonnell  came  to 
New  York,  secured  the  papers  with  the  money  inclosed,  and  en- 
joyed the  profits  of  his  ill-gotten  gains. 

In  the  autumn  of  1867  MacDonnell  was  in  New  York.  He 
answered  the  advertisement  of  Dr.  James  W.  Barnard,  a well 
known  physician  on  Fifth  Avenue,  who  wished  to  rent  the  front 
parlor  and  adjoining  rooms  of  his  house.  Calling  at  the  house 
and  presenting  a card  on  which  was  the  name  of  Henry  B.  Liv- 
ingston, he  represented  himself  as  an  English  traveller  who  was 
tired  of  hotel  life.  After  inspecting  the  rooms  he  agreed  to  take 
them.  The  rent  was  high,  but  he  professed  no  objection,  and 
paid  part  of  it  in  advance.  During  his  call  he  was  accompanied 
by  a valet,  whom  he  addressed  as  Clarence. 


DIAMONDS  AND  DUPES. 


77 


Later  on  the  same  day  he  went  to  Tiffany’s  and  asked  to  look 
at  diamonds.  He  chose  a brooch  with  seven  stones,  a solitaire 
ring,  two  diamond  ear  drops,  and  two  large  unset  diamonds.  The 
value  of  all  was  about  $2500.  He  gave  his  name  to  the  salesman 
as  W.  H.  Barnard,  and  said  that  he  had  not  sufficient  money  with 
him  to  pay  for  the  diamonds,  but  would  go  down  town  and  see  his 
father.  Pretty  soon  he  returned  and  said  that  his  father  was  out, 
but  that  he  had  left  word  to  have  the  money  left  at  his  residence 
on  Fifth  Avenue.  His  carriage  was  outside,  he  said,  and  he  in- 
vited the  salesman  to  take  the  diamonds  and  ride  with  him  to  his 
house,  where  he  would  be  paid.  The  salesman  assented,  and  they 
were  driven  off  by  a coachman  whom  MacDonnell  called  “ Charles.” 
They  stopped  at  Dr.  Barnard’s  residence,  and  went  in  the  parlor. 
MacDonnell  asked  Clarence,  who  was  there,  where  his  father  was. 
Clarence  replied  that  he  had  just  stepped  out,  mentioning  where 
he  had  gone.  Then  MacDonnell  told  his  valet  to  go  after  him 
and  get  the  money  for  the  diamonds.  Clarence  did  so,  and  re- 
turned with  a check  drawn  for  the  proper  amount  upon  a promi- 
nent bank,  and  signed  by  Jas.  W.  Barnard.  This  was  given  to  the 
salesman,  and  he  departed  with  the  worthless  check.  MacDonnell 
and  Clarence,  who  was  no  less  than  one  of  the  Bidwells,  left  the 
city  at  once.  Charles,  the  coachman,  had  been  in  the  conspiracy, 
but  his  companions  had  “ shelved  ” him  at  the  last  moment,  and 
he,  through  spite,  divulged  the  fraud.  MacDonnell  was  found  by 
detectives  in  Portland,  Maine,  and  brought  back  to  New  York,  where 
he  was  sentenced  to  prison  for  three  years.  Bidwell  escaped. 

12 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


dispute  With  the  police  commissioners. — cranks  who  write 

LETTERS. EXPECTING  COUNTERFEIT  NOTES  AND  GETTING  SAW- 
DUST.— A LITTLE  BY-PLAY  ON  BROADWAY. u THE  THIRD  DE- 

GREE.”— THE  MAN  WHO  PULLED  OUT  HIS  WHISKERS. — FACTS 
ABOUT  THE  FINEST  FORCE. 

I was  appointed  superintendent  of  police  on  July  23,  1874. 
At  that  time  the  force  consisted  of  four  inspectors,  thirty-six 
captains,  one  hundred  and  thirty-five  sergeants,  two  thousand  two 
hundred  and  seventy-two  patrolmen  and  eighty  doormen — mak- 
ing a total  of  2521. 

In  a strictly  legal  sense,  the  superintendent  of  the  New  York 
police  is  the  executive  officer  of  the  department ; but  during  the 
eleven  years  I occupied  the  position  my  powers  were  considerably 
curtailed,  with  the  exception  of  the  short  period  when  Mr.  Matsell 
was  president  of  the  Police  Board.  At  the  time  I was  appointed 
superintendent,  the  Board  of  Police  had  authority  under  a special 
act  of  the  Legislature  to  remove  me  when  they  pleased.  This 
arbitrary  power  they  held  until  the  Consolidation  Act  was  passed 
in  1882.  It  will  be  at  once  manifest  that  if,  under  the  old  act,  the 
superintendent  attempted  to  carry  out  the  promptings  of  his  own 
judgment,  and  his  actions  happened  to  be  at  variance  with  the  ideas 
of  any  member  of  the  Police  Board,  that  member  in  all  probability 
became  his  enemy.  Under  such  circumstances  it  can  readily  be 
seen  that  the  removal  of  the  superintendent  would  not  be  a very 
difficult  thing  to  bring  about. 

As  a general  rule,  the  subjects  of  dispute  between  the  police 
commissioners  and  myself  were  not  of  major  importance.  There 
was  one  point,  however,  on  which  we  never  could  agree,  and  that 
was  in  regard  to  the  duties  of  the  inspectors.  Prior  to  my  assurm 
ing  the  position,  captains  were  responsible  to  the  superintendent 
personally ; they  were  under  his  immediate  control  and  not  under 
that  of  the  inspectors.  By  more  recent  regulations,  the  inspectors 
received  the  reports  of  the  captains.  They  thus  came  between  me 

178 


A STEP  HIGHER. 


179 


and  the  latter.  The  inspectors  were  four  in  number,  and  when 
Inspector  Byrnes  was  appointed  he  was  given  command  of  the  de- 
tective force,  which  had  heretofore  been  under  my  control.  His 
duties  differed  materially  from  those  of  the  others.  The  captains 
of  the  various  precincts,  therefore,  did  not  feel  under  any  special 
responsibility  to  him,  as  no  analogy  exists  between  the  work  of  the 
detectives  and  that  of  the  general  patrol  force.  Under  the  new 
rule,  captains  soon  came  to  consider  that  the  inspector  of  their 


district  was  the  officer  to  whom  their  allegiance  was  directly  due, 
and  whose  instructions  they  should  follow.  With  such  a divided 
responsibility  and  authority,  a great  many  matters  occurred  in  the 
city  which  might  be  classed  among  lesser  misdemeanors,  and 
which  did  not  come  under  the  immediate  notice  of  the  superintend- 
ent, and  only  reached  his  ears  after  some  lapse  of  time.  Orders, 
too,  emanating  from  the  superintendent  and  addressed  to  the  cap- 
tains through  the  medium  of  the  inspectors,  were  imparted  by  the 
latter  in  a half-hearted  manner.  In  fact,  it  rested  wholly  with  the 
inspectors  themselves  whether  the  superintendent’s  wishes  should 
be  supported  or  practically  ignored.  I have  every  reason  to  be- 


l8o  ROUTINE. — EVERYBODY’S  FRIEND. 

lieve  that  because  the  inspectors  failed  to  give  me  the  aid  which 
they  should  have  given  the  laws  in  regard  to  gambling,  lotteries 
and  policy  playing  were  not  enforced.  Had  the  old  and  intimate 
relations  which  heretofore  existed  between  the  superintendent  and 
captains  continued,  I am  certain  I could  have  suppressed  many 
of  the  evils  to  which  I have  alluded. 

Mr.  Hawley,  who  was  chief  clerk,  co-operated  most  heartily 
with  me  in  the  endeavor  to  effect  a change  in  these  rules  relative 
to  inspectors.  Our  efforts  were  in  vain  ; but  I am  pleased  to  know 
that  Mr.  Murray,  my  successor,  who,  as  inspector  and  with  the 
other  inspectors  opposed  the  change,  has  now  urged  the  very  iden- 
tical changes  which  I had  tried  to  obtain  for  so  many  years,  and 
that  his  “ requests  ” have  been  complied  with. 

To  explain  in  detail  the  varied  work  which  falls  to  the  lot  of  the 
police  superintendent  in  New  York  would  occupy  many  pages,  and 
I can  give  only  a brief  sketch  of  his  complex  duties.  The  hours 
of  the  day,  even  when  re-enforced  by  those  of  the  night,  are  barely 
sufficient  to  meet  all  the  requirements  of  the  situation.  It  was  my 
habit  to  be  at  the  office  promptly  at  eight  o’clock  in  the  morning, 
and,  with  the  exception  of  a brief  interval  for  luncheon,  to  remain 
there  until  six  o’clock  at  night.  Sunday  was  never  a day  of  rest 
to  me.  I was  always  prepared  for  night  work,  and  was  frequently 
called  upon  at  the  most  unexpected  hours.  It  was  also  my  duty 
to  be  present  at  all  riots,  serious  fires,  etc.  Anything  like  regular 
hours  or  an  established  routine  of  work  was  altogether  impossible. 

The  daily  mail  of  a New  York  superintendent  of  police  is 
very  large.  Everybody  in  the  United  States  seems  to  want  to 
write  to  him  ; and  besides  the  letters  from  this  country,  he  gets 
communications  from  all  over  the  world.  Everybody  with  a 
grievance  of  any  kind  addresses  him  ; and  in  addition  to  a great 
deal  of  trivial  matter,  no  small  amount  of  important  business 
reaches  his  busy  hands.  The  bulk  of  his  correspondence  comes 
from  people  who  complain  of  having  been  “ swindled.”  In  most 
cases  of  this  kind  even  a cursory  examination  of  the  letters  shows 
that  the  “ swindled  ” are  not  above  suspicion  themselves.  The 
grievances  are  many.  Some  say  they  have  sent  good  money, 
expecting  to  receive  counterfeit  notes  in  return,  and  got  nothing 
but  blank  paper  or  sawdust.  Others  expected  to  obtain  a $250 
piano  for  $5  ; a $60  sewdng  machine  for  $2  ; or  a $10  washer  and 
wringer  for  fifty  cents.  And  because  their  expectations  wrere 


•V 


j8t 


POLICE  HEADQUARTERS,  MULBERRY  STREET. 


182 


CONFIDENTIAL  COMMUNICATIONS. 


not  realized  they  get  angry,  denounce  the  “ swindler  ” to  the 
superintendent,  and  demand  justice.  To  such  I paid  no  attention. 
But  whenever  it  was  clear  that  a fraud  or  swindle  had  been 
perpetrated,  I always  did  the  best  I could  to  make  it  “ warm  ” 
for  those  who  were  carrying  on  the  crooked  business. 

With  letters  of  this  kind  there  come  to  the  superintendent 
inquiries  demanding  his  closest  attention.  Many  of  these  are 
of  a strictly  private,  or  family,  character.  A man  is  paying 
attention  to  a woman  who  lives  a thousand  miles  from  New 
York,  and  has  told  her  that  he  formerly  resided  in  this  city ; that 
he  is  unmarried,  in  independent  circumstances  and  of  fair 
repute.  “There  is  something,”  says  the  writer,  “which  is  not 
quite  plain  in  regard  to  the  gentleman  who  sues  for  the  lady’s 
hand.  Will  the  superintendent  kindly  find  out  all  he  can?” 
Why,  if  the  superintendent’s  office  were  the  General  Intelligence 
Bureau  of  the  Continent  of  North  America  it  would  not  suffice 
for  the  numerous  and  preposterous  demands  made  upon  its  time 
and  patience.  Some  people  seem  to  have  the  impression  that 
the  superintendent  is  at  the  head  of  a commercial  agency,  and 
it  is  not  unusual  to  find  in  the  correspondence  requests 
that  the  financial  standing,  probity  and  so  on,  of  such  and  such 
a firm  shall  be  investigated  and  revealed.  If  it  were  possible 
to  give  such  information  as  is  requested  by  anxious  parents, 
lovers,  and  creditors,  the  superintendent  would  be  perfectly 
willing  to  impart  all  he  knows  ; but  in  most  cases  he  is  helpless. 

On  every  day  in  the  year  the  office  of  the  superintendent  is  in 
communication  with  the  leading  cities  of  the  United  States  in 
regard  to  business  which  is  particularly  within  his  province  : the 
whereabouts  and  conduct  of  criminals.  A robbery  is  committed, 
and  the  perpetrator  is  supposed  to  have  fled  to  New  York.  A 
description  of  him  is  immediately  sent  to  the  New  York  police. 
Or  perhaps  a burglary  has  occurred  in  this  city,  and  the  criminal 
is  stealthily  making  his  way  to  some  other  place ; if  we  have  a 
photograph  of  the  supposed  culprit,  a number  of  his  pictures  are 
immediately  struck  off  and  forwarded,  together  with  printed  par- 
ticulars of  the  robbery  and  the  articles  stolen,  to  all  parts  of  the 
country. 

Foreign  letters  are  frequent.  Germans,  Frenchmen,  Italians, 
Swedes,  Norwegians,  English,  Irish,  Scotch  and  persons  of  all 
other  nationalities  who  have  sons  or  daughters  in  the  United 


DUTIES. 


83 


States  (and  in  South  America  even,  sometimes),  write  to  the 
superintendent  to  learn  of  their  children’s  whereabouts.  When- 
ever possible,  inquiries  of  this  nature  are  given  attention. 

A considerable  portion  of  the  superintendent’s  time  is  taken  , up 
by  callers,  and  many  valuable  hours  are  lost  through  the  thought- 
lessness of  persons  who  come  on  all  kinds  of  matters  which  are 
utterly  foreign  to  police  business.  Everybody,  however,  must  be 
listened  to  attentively,  for  now  and  then  a genuine  grievance 


SUPERINTENDENT  WALLING’S  OFFICE. 


comes  to  light,  requiring  prompt  action.  The  “ routine  ” work  of 
the  superintendent  alone  requires  a great  deal  of  time  and  atten- 
tion, no  matter  how  commonplace  it  may  seem. 

All  parades  and  public  meetings  come  under  the  supervision  of 
the  superintendent.  In  such  cases,  notice  of  the  time  and  place 
and  route  is  sent  to  headquarters.  If  a procession  is  likely  to  be 
large,  the  superintendent  studies  the  route,  and  instructions  con- 
cerning the  disposition  of  the  force  are  sent  to  the  police  captains. 
During  the  close  presidential  contest  of  1884  the  police  force  was 
taxed  to  its  utmost,  and  from  the  superintendent  down  to  the  pa- 
trolmen not  one  had  scarcely  a moment’s  rest  for  three  weeks. 


184 


BY-PLAY  ON  BROADWAY. 


And  let  me  say  here  that  the  good  sense  and  temper  of  the  com 
munity  were  never  more  conspicuous  than  on  those  occasions. 
The  tens  of  thousands  of  excited  people  who  congregated  on  the 
streets  were  easily  managed. 

The  superintendent  has  no  leisure.  His  position  is  no  sinecure 
or  bed  of  roses;  and  with  the  rapid  growth  of  New  York  and  the 
country  of  which  it  is  the  commercial  mart,  his  responsibilities  are 
rapidly  increasing. 

The  reader  will  be  interested  in  the  actual  circumstances  usually 
attendant  upon  the  arrest  of  a criminal  by  a Central  Office  detec- 
tive, and  I cannot  do  better  than  narrate  an  incident  which  oc- 
curred some  time  ago.  In  company  with  a Western  friend  inter- 
ested in  police  matters,  I was  walking  on  Broadway  one  afternoon 
in  the  vicinity  of  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel,  when  I caught  sight  of 
a little  by-play  which  was  going  on  unnoticed  by  the  large  number 
of  persons  on  the  street.  An  exceedingly  well-dressed  individual, 
wearing  modest  but  expensive  jewellery,  was  engaged  in  apparently 
friendly  conversation  with  another  man,  about  whom  there  was 
nothing  to  attract  observation,  unless  it  was  his  efforts  to  escape 
it. 

“ Do  you  see  that  ? ” I asked  of  my  friend,  pointing  out  the  two 
men. 

“ Yes,”  he  replied  ; “ but  what  about  them  ? ” 

“Well,  one  of  them  is  a detective,  and  the  other  is  a forger 
whom  he  is  arresting.” 

“ Tell  me  all  about  it,”  said  my  friend.  “ I’ve  long  wanted  to 
know  the  modus  operandi  of  such  a capture — the  conversation  and 
so  on  between  the  detective  and  his  prisoner.” 

“ That  detective  is  ‘ Phil  ’ , and  his  prisoner  is  John . 

I think  I can  guess  at  the  conversation  between  them.  I’ll  wager  . 
it’s  something  after  this  fashion  : 

“ ‘ How  are  you,  John  ? ’ 

“ ‘ O,  first-rate,  thank  you,  Phil,’  answers  the  fellow,  knowing 
well  that  Phil’s  inquiry  bodes  him  no  good. 

“‘John,  the  old  man  [that’s  me]  wants  to  see  you.’ 

“ ‘ All  right.  I’ll  go  along.’ 

“‘Well,  look  here,  no  skipping.  I’m  fixed,  and  there  might  be 
a little  accident  if  you  tried  to  go  as  you  please  here.  Under- 
stand ? ’ 


ROGUES’  GALLERY  AND  MEMENTOES. 


i86 


HOW  THEY  WENT. 


“ ‘ Why,  certainly,  Phil.  Don’t  suppose  I’m  going  to  give  you 
the  slip,  do  you  ? ”’  * 

The  detective  and  his  prisoner  now  walked  along  the  street, 
and  we  followed.  The  pair  had  the  appearance  of  being  old 
friends,  just  going  to  take  a drink.  There  was  no  exhibition  of 
revolver  or  “billy/’  nippers  or  handcuffs.  John  knew  well  that 
even  if  he  made  a bolt  and  escaped  the  bullets  from  Phil’s  pistol, 
his  re-arrest  would  quickly  follow,  and  an  exhibition  of  his  ability 
as  a pedestrian  would  be  accepted  as  an  evidence  of  his  guilt. 


THE  CELL  CORRIDOR. 


“John,”  I informed  my  friend,  “is  a notorious  ‘layer  down’  of 
checks,  who  has  given  the  community  and  the  police  a great  deal 
of  trouble.” 

The  two  jumped  aboard  a car  and  alighted  at  Bleecker  Street. 
We  followed,  and  my  Western  acquaintance  could  not  avoid 
remarking  that  Phil  walked  along  as  if  he  didn’t  know  of  any  such 
place  as  police  headquarters.  Turning  into  Mott  Street,  Phil 
and  his  charge  approached  the  rear  of  the  Central  Office,  went 
down  a flight  of  stairs,  and  entered  a corridor  just  outside  of  what 
is  used  as  an  office  by  the  boiler  inspectors  and  policemen  detailed 
to  enforce  the  health  ordinances.  Phil  was  anxious  that  his  chief 


i87 


“all  hope  abandon.” 

should  know  what  he  had  achieved,  while  John,  knowing  too  well 
who  had  him  in  custody,  was  aware  that  the  sooner  he  got  in  a 
cell  the  sooner  he  would  have  a little  comfort. 

So  far,  no  sign  of  a prison  has  met  the  eye.  But  the  detective 
and  his  man  now  reach  a door  fitted  with  heavy  springs,  on  which 
might  be  written,  “ All  hope  abandon  ye  who  enter  here.”  This 
door  gives  entrance  to  a gloomy-looking  arched  passage-way,  on 


THE  MUSEUM.— BURGLARS’  TOOLS. 

either  side  of  which  are  yards  paved  with  stone  slabs.  There  is 
no  chance  for  escape.  The  walls  surrounding  the  yards  rise  to 
the  level  of  the  fifth  story,  and  are  unscalable.  To  the  left  is  a 
huge  chamber  barred  with  iron  windows  and  fitted  with  iron  doors, 
and  used  for  the  safe  confinement  of  large  numbers  of  prisoners, 
as  in  times  of  riot.  To  the  right  are  two  sets  of  casemates, 
arranged  with  cells,  out  of  which  nobody,  even  if  left  alone  and 
possessed  of  the  most  improved  tools,  could  escape.  Hurrying 


88 


“ BRIDGE  OF  SIGHS.” 


his  prisoner  along,  Phil  turns  sharply  to  the  right,  to  a yard  under 
the  “ Bridge  of  Sighs,”  as  it  is  called,  the  connecting  link  between 
the  office  of  the  superintendent  and  the  Detective  Bureau.  A 
ring  at  the  wooden  door  brings  Turnkey  Birney  to  view.  He  is 
bearded  and  has  a martial  and  business-like  air,  and  his  eyes  are 
as  piercing  as  a gimlet.  He  appreciates  the  situation  at  a glance, 
opens  wide  the  door,  and  when  his  visitors  have  passed  through 


THE  .MUSEUM.— RELICS  OF  CRIME. 


closes  it  with  a resounding  slam.  Birney  follows  the  officer  and 
his  prisoner  past  the  “ day  room  ” of  the  detectives,  where  they 
pass  the  time  while  waiting  for  orders  in  writing  “ baby  letters  ” 
and  playing  dominoes.  The  prisoner  is  then  conducted  up  one  of 
the  worst  corkscrew  staircases  that  ever  a builder  constructed. 
The  landing  on  the  top  leads  directly  into  the  main  office  of  the 
Detective  Bureau — an  ample,  lofty  apartment,  railed  off  at  the  east 
end.  Outside  the  railing  is  a measuring-stand  and  a subordinate 


“ DEACON  ” BIRD.  189 

rogues’  gallery.  Behind  is  venerable  “ Deacon  ” Sergeant  Isaac 
Bird,  spare,  angular,  always  exceedingly  neat,  particular,  white- 
bearded,  amiable,  business-like  and  gentlemanly.  He  is  of  course 
busy  when  Phil  and  his  charge  enter,  but  he  leaves  his  mysterious 
occupation  to  reach  for  the  “ blotter,”  while  he  says  : 

“ What’s  the  case  ? ” 

“ Forgery,”  replies  Phil,  in  a mechanical  tone  of  voice. 

The  “ Deacon  ” dips  his  pen  in  the  ink,  searches  for  the  proper 
line,  and  then,  addressing  the  prisoner,  says : 

“ What’s  your  name  ? ” 

“ John  Jones.” 

The  “ Deacon  ” glances  at  Jones,  and  then  makes  an  entry  of 
the  single  letter  “ W.”  This  signifies  “ white.” 

“ Your  age  ? ” 

“ Thirty-five.” 

“ Born  ? ” 

“ United  States.” 

“ Married  or  single  ? ” 

“ Married.” 

“ Occupation  ? ” 

“ Speculator.” 

Then  the  “ Deacon,”  without  consulting  the  prisoner,  and  as  if 
holding  communion  with  himself  alone,  murmurs : 

“ Forgery,”  and  enters  it. 

“ Complainant  ? ” he  then  inquires. 

“ Phil  Riley.  Guess  the  chief  wants  to  see  this  man.”  (This 
means  chief  of  detectives,  not  the  superintendent  of  police.) 

“ Well,  wait  a second,  I’ll  see.”  Saying  which  the  “ Deacon  ” 
disappears  through  a doorwa}',  only  to  reappear  after  a brief 
absence  and  hold  up  his  finger.  This  indicates  that  the  prisoner 
is  going  to  pass  a bad  quarter  of  an  hour,  or  what  is  known  in 
police  slang  as  “ getting  the  third  degree.” 

Phil  accordingly  hurries  his  charge  into  the  presence  of  In- 
spector Byrnes,  who  is  fully  prepared  to  receive  his  visitors.  He 
has  struck  a meditative  attitude  behind  his  low  but  simple  desk, 
crossed  his  legs,  and  begins  operations  by  casting  a short,  sharp 
glance. at  unfortunate  John  Jones.  John  knows  the  inspector,  so 
he  makes  a humble  salutation.  If  the  interview  is  likely  to  be  a 
prolonged  one  he  is  waved  to  a seat.  Not  so  with  Phil ; if  it  lasted 
all  day  he  must  stand. 


BEFORE  THE  INSPECTOR. 


190 

John  Jones  enters  the  presence  of  Mr.  Byrnes,  determined  to  do 
the  best  he  can  for  himself.  The  inspector  is  perfectly  well  aware 
of  John’s  intention  and  proceeds  to  upset  it.  Of  course  Jones  has 
certain  secrets  connected  with  his  nefarious  profession  ; but  the 
inspector  soon  shows  him  that  the  possession  of  such  secrets  is  a 
joint  stock  affair.  All  that  Jones  has  done,  or  nearly  all,  for 
months,  appears  to  be  as  familiar  to  the  inspector  as  to  the  pris- 
oner himself.  He  begins  to  forget  an  original  intention  of  keep- 


ing “ mum,”  is  entrapped  into  making  admissions  and  contradic- 
tions, and  generally  ends  by  “Squealing.”  Some  prisoners  under 
this  ordeal  are  not  so  easily  brought  to  confession.  A few  hours 
sojourn  in  a cell,  however,  pondering  over  the  inspector’s  parting 
words  frequently  brings  them  to  terms,  and  ready  to  impart  such 
information  as  the  authorities  desire  at  the  next  interview. 

The  interview  ended,  John  Jones  goes  back  before  the 
“ Deacon,”  and  if  he  has  not  yet  been  searched,  that  operation  is 
in  order.  The  man  who  “goes  through  him  ” has  become  expert 
by  long  experience.  His  search  is  not  an  ordinary  one  of  pockets 
merely.  It  is  thorough.  It  includes  from  hat  to  boots,  seams, 
tailors’  “ pocket  tricks,”  hat  band,  hat  lining,  boot  heels,  watch 


THE  SEARCH. 


IQ. 


case,  underwear,  even  the  prisoner’s  person, — all  are  ruthlessly 
examined,  and  each  article  found  in  his  possession  is  placed  upon 
the  broad  shelf  in  front  of  the  “ Deacon,”  by  whom  it  is  subjected 
to  a close  scrutiny.  Such  articles  as  relate  to  the  charge  against 
the  prisoner,  and  any  instruments  with  which  he  might  inflict 
injury  upon  himself,  are  laid  aside.  Generally  he  has  returned  to 
him  possessions  of  no  value,  small  sums  of  money  and  so  on.  If 


PRIVATE  ROOMS,  CENTRAL  OFFICE. 


the  prisoner’s  photograph  is  not  in  the  possession  of  the  police,  or 
has  been  secured  by  them,  at  such  a remote  day  as  to  be  valueless 
in  recognizing  him,  he  is  walked  off  by  the  detective,  in  the  same 
apparently  friendly  way  as  that  with  which  he  came  to  head- 
quarters, to  one  of  three  Bowery  photographers.  The  conversation 
during  the  walk  is  almost  invariably  the  same.  The  prisoner 
ranks  his  captor  as  among  the  dearest  of  his  friends,  and  addresses 
him  by  his  Christian  name,  asking  him  confidentially  concerning 
the  nature  of  the  charge  against  him,  the  evidence  in  possession  of 
the  police  and  his  “ chances.”  The  detective  does  not,  of  course, 
answer  all  the  questions  put  to  him,  but  generally  outlines  what  he 
his  against  him,  and  seldom  omits  to  interject  a few  grains  of 


(From  a Photograph  taken  under  Duress.) 


192 


TURNKEY  RIRNEY  AGAIN. 


l9  3 


comfort.  At  the  photographer’s  the  prisoner  is  treated  as  an  ordi- 
nary customer.  He  poses,  as  a rule,  to  the  best  advantage,  vanity 
impels  him  to  look  his  best,  the  negative  is  examined,  pronounced 
satisfactory  or  otherwise,  and  when  a good  likeness  is  assured,  the 
detective  and  his  man  chat  on  their  way  bacl^  to  the  Central 
Office. 

First-class  “ professionals  ” undergo  the  process  of  having  their 
faces  handed  down  to  infamy  with  bad  grace.  Not  infrequently 
they  resist  the  taking  of  their  photograph  in  a most  vigorous 
manner.  Under  the  old  method,  such  a prisoner  was  difficult  to 
photograph.  Even  when  force  was  used  it  was  found  impossible 
to  obtain  other  than  distorted  features  for  the  gallery.  Nowa- 
days, however,  by  means  of  the  instantaneous  process,  and  by 
catching  the  reluctant  sitter  at  an  unguarded  moment,  portraits 
sufficiently  correct  for  the  required  purpose  are  always  obtained. 

When  once  more  back  at  the  Central  Office,  John  Jones  is 
treated  kindly,  and  his  personal  wants  are  inquired  into.  If  he  is 
hungry,  a generous  meal  is  soon  provided,  either  from  the  kitchen 
of  Mrs.  Mary  Webb,  the  matron,  or  from  a neighboring  restaurant, 
if  the  prisoner  has  money.  His  defence  is  not  neglected,  either, 
if  he  can  defray  the  cost  of  employing  a messenger.  The  major- 
ity of  thieves  have  their  pet  lawyers,  and  a message  speedily 
brings  the  latter  to  their  clients.  Such  visits,  except  in  cases 
where  it  would  be  possible  for  an  unscrupulous  lawyer  to  thwart 
the  ends  of  justice  by  making  away  with  evidence  or  property 
necessary  to  convict  the  criminal,  are  regarded  as  sacredly  confi- 
dential. 

The  prisoner  is  now  handed  over  to  Turnkey  Birney,  who  con- 
ducts him  down  the  corkscrew  staircase  and  places  him  in  what- 
ever cell  may  be  empty  at  the  time.  All  the  cells  are  alike. 
The  furniture  consists  of  but  one  article- — a slanting  board,  with  a 
raised  ledge  at  the  higher  end  in  lieu  of  a pillow.  If,  on  the  next 
morning,  he  desires  to  employ  a barber,  he  can  do  so,  provided 
that  in  the  process  of  shaving  no  hair  is  cut  from  the  head  or  from 
the  whiskers  or  mustache.  It  has  now  and  then  happened  that, 
in  order  to  avoid  identification,  prisoners  have  gone  so  far  as  to 
burn  their  beard  and  mustache  off.  Others  have  been  known  to 
hack  their  whiskers  with  a pocket-knife.  But  the  most  remarka- 
ble instance  of  all  was  where  a man,  with  whiskers  on  his  chin, 
actually  pulled  out  the  hairs  one  by  one  rather  than  run  the  risk 

13 


194 


“the  finest/’ 


of  being  identified  the  next  morning  in  court.  The  agony  he  en- 
dured must  have  been  excruciating,  but  he  had  his  reward — the 
witnesses  were  unable  to  swear  to  his  identity. 

The  police  force  of  New  York  City  is  without  doubt  the  finest 
organization  of  its  kind  in  the  world.  The  men  composing  it  are 
finer  looking,  better  paid,  more  vigilant  than  the  protectors  of  any 
other  large  city.  No  organization  is  more  effective  either ; and 
even  if  our  police  do  not  exercise  that  perpetual  espionage  over 
individual  citizens  that  the  Parisian  gendarmes  exercise,  they  are 
better  trained,  more  athletic,  more  resolute  and  hardy.  The  es- 
prit de  corps  which  prevails  is  unequalled  in  any  other  city.  Then, 
too,  the  men  are  given  to  understand  that  their  actions,  when 
governed  by  a desire  for  the  public  good,  will  be  protected  and  up- 
held by  the  courts.  In  this  respect  the  New  York  police  have 
unusual  liberty  of  action — more  by  far  than  the  London  police,  who 
dare  not  lay  a finger  on  a man  unless  he  is  engaged  in  the  very 
act  of  violating  the  law.  Here,  however,  it  is  often  a case  of 
“giving  a dog  a bad  name  and  then  hanging  him,” — men  being- 
arrested  merely  because  they  are  known  to  have  been  law-breakers 
or  persons  of  bad  character.  But  in  London,  and  in  other  large 
cities  of  the  Old  World,  thieves,  burglars  and  criminals  of  all  classes 
march  past  the  guardians  of  peace  and  law,  feeling  confident  that 
they  are  safe  from  arrest  so  long  as  they  are  not  caught  in  the 
act  of  law-breaking.  A band  of  pickpockets  may  rush  through  a 
crowd  at  Hyde  Park,  or  hustle  the  throngs  that  gather  upon 
Epsom  Downs  on  the  “ Derby  Day,”  but  the  police  are  powerless. 
A howling  mob  of  ten  or  twenty  thousand  rascals  may  gather  in 
Trafalgar  Square  with  the  declared  intention  of  sacking  Bucking- 
ham Palace,  but  the  police  can  only  stand  round,  waiting  for  the 
commission  of  some  illegal  act — the  throwing  of  a stone,  the  tear- 
ing down  of  a fence — ‘before  taking  any  active  part  in  stopping 
the  performance. 

With  “ the  finest,”  as  the  New  York  police  are  sometimes  called, 
criminals  do  not  experience  such  forbearance.  A New  York 
police  officer  knows  he  has  been  sworn  in  to  “ keep  the  peace,”  and 
he  keeps  it.  There’s  no  “shilly-shallying”  with  him  ; he  doesn’t 
consider  himself  half  patrolman  and  half  supreme  court  judge. 
He  can  and  does  arrest  on  suspicion.  In  times  of  turbulence,  or 
threatened  rioting,  he  keeps  people  moving.  If  men  or  women 
who  are  notorious  enter  places  of  amusement,  a policeman  is  very 


/ 


POLICE  PARADE,  BROADWAY. 


I95 


196 


MY  EXPERIENCES 


likely  to  eject  them.  If  they  don’t  go  quietly  and  without  many 
words,  the  station-house  becomes  their  abiding-place  for  the  night. 

The  London  police  do  not  arrest  for  gross  intoxication  and  dis- 
turbance in  the  street,  or  for  street-walking,  as  our  police  do.  In 
New  York,  prostitutes  are  not  allowed  to  pursue  their  calling  in  a 
bold  and  shameless  manner.  When  I was  in  London  I remember 
standing  by  the  “ Old  Bailey  ” and  seeing  a drunken  sailor  be- 
tween two  drunken  women,  chaffing  the  policemen  as  they  went 
along  and  shouting  and  swearing  at  the  wayfarers.  This  would 
not  be  allowed  here  one  minute. 

I stood  by  Charing  Cross  one  day  with  Police  Commissioner 
Matthews.  Two  of  his  friends  stopped  him,  and  while  they  were 
talking,  a woman  who  was  very  noisy  and  drunken  came  stagger- 
ing along.  She  accosted  them  with  some  ribaldry  and  they 
moved  away  to  avoid  her.  She  then  came  and  harangued  me.  I 
said : 

“ Get  out ! Move  on  ! I’ll  have  you  arrested  if  you  don’t  go 
away.” 

She  turned  around  and  denounced  and  defied  me  with  a pro- 
fane and  obscene  expression.  Policemen  were  close  by,  but  they 
paid  no  attention  to  her.  In  London  and  Liverpool  are  seen  mul- 
titudes of  lewd  women  in  the  streets,  and  the  police  never  molest 
them. 

When  I was  captain  of  detectives  I assumed  a liberty  which 
had  never  been  taken  by  any  of  my  predecessors.  That  was,  on 
every  public  holiday,  or  in  the  event  of  large  parades,  to  issue  this 
order  to  the  detective  force  : “ Arrest  all  known  pickpockets  on 

the  streets,  and  take  them  in.”  Of  course  my  action  caused  con- 
siderable consternation  in  the  ranks  of  the  “ crooked  ” fraternity. 
Some  remonstrated,  and  not  a few  were  furious  at  my  “ restraining 
the  liberty  of  the  subject.”  A considerable  number  clubbed  to- 
gether and  hired  a lawyer  to  argue  the  matter  before  the  courts. 
It  was  no  use  ; my  order  was  sustained  and  remains  to  this  day. 
When  the  Prince  of  Wales  visited  this  country  he  expressed  his 
astonishment  at  the  ease  with  which  the  police  of  New  York  con- 
trolled the  large  crowds  in  the  streets.  The  Duke  of  Newcastle 
noticed  the  same  thing.  As  a contrast,  the  fact  may  be  mentioned 
that  afterwards,  when  the  Prince  and  Princess  of  Wales  gave  a re- 
ception in  London,  the  mob  there  overpowered  the  police,  seven 
persons  were  killed  and  hundreds  were  wounded,  to  say  nothing 


WHILE  ABROAD. 


l97 


of  the  robberies  effected  in  the  consequent  confusion.  When  the 
“Great  Eastern  ” was  on  exhibition  in  England,  the  pickpockets 
reaped  a rich  harvest,  many  thousands  of  pounds  being  reported 
stolen.  When  the  mammoth  steamship  was  exhibited  here,  how- 
ever, not  a dime  was  known  to  have  been  taken,  although  she  was 
visited  by  more  than  a hundred  thousand  persons  and  only  six 
policemen  were  on  duty. 


CHAPTER  XV. 


KIDNAPPING  OF  CHARLEY  ROSS. — MYSTERIOUS  LETTERS. — ON  THE 

TRACK  OF  THE  CRIMINALS. SEARCHING  LAND  AND  WATER. 

A TREACHEROUS  AID. THE  BURGLARY  AT  VAN  BRUNT’S  HOUSE. 

DEATH  OF  THE  ABDUCTORS. 

Of  all  my  experiences  while  connected  with  the  police  I recall  no 
case  which  gave  me  greater  solicitude  than  the  abduction  of 
Charley  Ross.  This  occurred  on  the  evening  of  Wednesday,  July 
i,  1874,  at  Germantown,  a suburb  of  Philadelphia.  I became 
superintendent  of  police  on  July  23,  and  in  consequence  I took 
an  active  part  in  the  search  for  the  child  and  the  discovery  of  the 
kidnappers. 

The  crime  was  one  which  called  for  vigorous  and  continued 
action.  For  some  years  after  the  futility  of  the  search  became 
evident  the  abduction  was  repeatedly  brought  to  my  memory.  In 
this  case  my  sympathies  were  particularly  enlisted. 

The  first  intimation  the  public  had  of  the  abduction  was  gained 
from  the  following  advertisement  which  appeared  on  July  3 in 
the  Philadelphia  Public  Ledger: 

“ Lost,  on  the  first  instant,  a small  boy  about  four  years  of  age  ; light  com- 
plexion, and  light  curly  hair.  A suitable  reward  will  be  paid  on  his  return  to 
E.  L.  Joyce,  Central  Station,  corner  of  Fifth  and  Chestnut  streets.” 

The  name  “ Ross  ” was  not  mentioned  in  this  notice,  as  Mr. 
Christian  K.  Ross,  the  father,  did  not  wish  to  alarm  his  wife,  who 
was  spending  a few  weeks  at  Atlantic  City.  When  Mr.  Ross  came 
home  on  July  1 he  discovered  that  his  two  youngest  children, 
Walter  and  Charley,  were  missing.  He  began  search,  and  before 
night  learned  that  two  strange  men,  with  a horse  and  wagon,  had 
passed  his  house  and  had  induced  the  boys  to  take  a ride.  After 
driving  about  eight  miles  toward  the  city  the  men  deserted 
Walter.  He  was  found  and  returned  to  his  father’s  house.  But 
Charley  has  never  since  been  seen  by  his  parents. 

The  community  became  alarmed,  and  with  the  entire  police 

198 


SPREADING  THE  ALARM. 


I99 


force  of  Philadelphia  a vigorous  search  was  begun.  On  the  even- 
ing of  July  4 Mr.  Ross  received  the  first  unsigned  letter  from 
the  abductors.  It  was  in  a disguised  handwriting,  and  contained 
much  purposely-incorrect  spelling,  as  the  following  extract  will 
show : 

“ July  3.  Mr.  Ros  : be  not  uneasy  you  son  Charley  bruster  be  all  writ  we  is 
got  him  and  no  powers  on  earth  can  deliver  out  of  our  hand,  you  wil  hav  two 
pay  us  befor  you  git  him  from  us,  and  pay  us  a big  cent  to.  . . . if  any  aproch 
is  maid  to  his  hidin  place  that  is  the  signil  for  his  instant  anihilation.” 


CHARLEY  ROSS. 

(From  a Photograph.) 

July  7,  posters,  giving  an  account  of  the  abduction  of  Charley 
Ross,  and  offering  a reward,  were  sent  to  the  New  York  police. 
All  this  time  the  Philadelphia  police,  as  well  as  that  of  the  cities 
and  towns  in  Pennsylvania,  Delaware  and  New  Jersey,  continued 
their  search  for  the  abductors.  In  a short  time  the  people  of  the 
entire  country  became  interested  in  the  matter,  and  all  did  what 
they  could  to  discover  the  criminals  and  restore  the  missing  child. 
Much  sympathy  was  also  expressed  in  Europe,  and  wherever  news- 
papers were  read  the  fate  of  Charley  Ross  was  discussed  and 
deplored. 

A long  correspondence  followed  with  the  unknown  abductors, 
through  the  post  and  press.  They  frankly  admitted  that  Charley 
had  been  stolen  with  the  hope  of  getting  a large  ransom.  They 
declared  that  he  would  not  be  returned  until  the  money  was  paid. 


200 


REWARDS,  NOT  RANSOM. 


Acting  upon  the  advice  of  the  authorities  and  friends,  Mr.  Ross 
decided  not  to  pay  the  sum  asked,  but  to  offer  large  rewards  for 
the  recovery  of  the  child,  and  the  capture  and  conviction  of  the 
kidnappers.  The  Mayor  of  Philadelphia,  at  the  request  of  many 
citizens,  offered  a reward  of  $ 20,000  for  the  arrest  and  conviction 
of  the  abductors  and  the  restoration  of  the  child  to  its  parents. 
The  publication  of  this  reward  drew  a letter  from  the  abductors, 
dated  “ Philadelphia,  July  24,”  in  which  they  said  : — 

“ We  have  him  so  that  we  feel  at  ease  against  all  the  detective  force  in  the 
country  ever  feritin  him  out.  the  authorities  have  offered  $ 20,000  for  the  re- 
covery of  the  child  an  detection  of  us  if  they  had  yu  interest  at  hart  this  would 
be  the  worst  thing  they  could  do.  this  is  only  oferin  a reward  for  the  sacrifice 
of  yu  child.” 

The  abductors  continued  the  correspondence  for  a long  time,  and 
made  many  attempts  to  induce  Mr.  Ross  to  pay  them  $20,000  for 
Charley’s  return.  Finally  the  correspondence  closed,  and  the 
search  proved  fruitless. 

The  first  information  received  in  Philadelphia  that  there  was 
any  clew  known  in  New  York  was  through  a telegram  received  on 
the  evening  of  August  2,  as  follows  : 

“ Chief  of  Police  of  Philadelphia : — Send  detective  here  with  original  letters  of 
kidnappers  of  Ross  child ; think  I have  information. 

“Geo.  W.  Walling, 

“ Superintendent  of  New  York  Police .” 

The  next  day  Captain  Heins,  of  Philadelphia,  and  Mr.  Joseph 
Ross,  brother  of  Charley  Ross’s  father,  came  to  New  York  with 
the  original  letters  of  the  abductors.  They  met  me  at  police 
headquarters. 

“ We  hope  that  you  at  least  have  some  trustworthy  information,” 
said  Captain  Heins. 

“ I think  I have,”  I replied.  “ Through  Captain  Henry  Hedden, 
of  the  Thirteenth  Police  District,  I have  heard  of  a man  who 
professes  to  know  who  the  abductors  are.  I will  send  for  Captain 
Hedden.”  Mr.  Ross  was  impatient  to  learn  the  news. 

“ Have  you  any  idea  who  the  abductors  were  ? ” he  asked. 

“ We  suspect  two  men  named  William  Mosher  and  Joseph 
Douglas,”  I answered. 

“ If  we  have  their  names,”  he  exclaimed,  eagerly,  “ they  can  be 
hunted  down.” 


THE  SUSPECTED  MEN. 


201 


“Undoubtedly.  And  that  is  what  we  hope  to  do.” 

I do  not  think,  before  the  publication  of  this  autobiography,  that 
the  exact  reasons  have  been  given  why  William  Mosher  was  first 
suspected.  A policeman  named  Doyle  came  to  me  one  day  and 
said  : 

“ Superintendent,  I have  been  talking  with  ‘Gill  ’ Mosher,  and 
from  all  I have  learned  I think  his  brother  William  had  a hand  in 
carrying  off  Charley  Ross.” 

“ Bring  ‘ Gill  ’ Mosher  to  see  me,  as  soon  as  you  can,”  I or- 
dered. 

After  a great  deal  of  searching  and  trouble,  “ Gill  ” Mosher  was 
found.  After  asking  him  many  questions  I finally  said  : — 

“ What  are  your  reasons  for  suspecting  that  your  brother 
William  took  part  in  the  kidnapping  of  Charley  Ross  ? ” 

“ Well,”  he  replied,  “ I was  approached  by  Bill,  who  asked  me 
if  I would  join  him  in  carrying  off  some  child  who  had  rich  parents. 
The  plan  was  to  steal  one  of  Commodore  Vanderbilt’s  grand- 
children.”— (Some  child  of  the  late  William  H.  Vanderbilt.) 

“ Which  one  of  the  children  was  to  be  taken  ? ” I asked. 

“The  youngest  one  we  could  get.” 

“ What  would  you  do  with  it  ? ” 

“ Hold  it  for  a ransom.” 

“ Where  did  he  propose  to  conceal  the  child  ? ” 

“ In  a boat,”  said  “ Gill  ” Mosher.  “ And,”  he  added,  “ I was 
to  negotiate  for  the  ransom.” 

“ Well,  what  then  ? ” 

“ I refused  to  have  anything  to  do  with*  the  business.” 

“ Why  ? ” 

“ Because  I thought  there  would  be  too  much  risk  in  trying  to 
get  money  from  the  Vanderbilts.  They  are  too  rich,  have  too  much 
power  and  are  not  the  kind  of  people  to  be  frightened.  There 
would  be  no  trouble  in  stealing  the  child,  the  difficulty  would  be 
in  negotiating  for  its  ransom.” 

“ So  you  gave  up  the  plan  ? ” 

“ Yes ; I would  not  run  the  risk  of  being  detected.  I did  not 
think  it  was  a safe  enterprise.” 

“ Gill  ” Mosher’s  statement  made  a strong  impression  on  me. 
I was  convinced  he  did  not  come  to  me  from  any  honest  motives. 
He  hoped  he  might  secure  a share  of  the  reward.  He  was  a noto- 
rious character,  and  had  been  in  State  Prison  for  horse-stealing. 


202 


ON  THE  TRACK. 


It  was  principally  from  the  clew  given  by  “ Gill  ” Mosher  that  we 
followed  his  brother  William,  and  Douglas.  When  Captain  Hed- 
den  arrived  at  police  headquarters  he  told  Captain  Heins,  of  Phil- 
adelphia, the  story  as  narrated  by  “ Gill  ” Mosher.  He  added  : 

“ If  my  suspicions  are  correct,  this  William  Mosher  is  the  leader 
of  the  conspiracy.  He  arranged  the  plot  and  is  the  writer  of  the 
letters  sent  to  Mr.  Ross.  I am  familiar  with  Mosher’s  writing, 
and  can  tell  if  I see  the  letters  whether  he  is  the  author  of  them.” 
“ Before  we  show  you  the  letters,”  said  Captain  Heins,  ‘‘describe 
to  us  the  peculiarities  of  Mosher’s  handwriting.” 

“ He  writes  very  rapidly,”  was  the  reply,  “ and  is  careless.  He 
seldom  finishes  a page  without  blotting  it.  He  often  writes  either 
above  or  below  the  lines.  When  he  folds  a letter  it  is  in  a peculiar 
and  awkward  way.” 

The  letters  were  produced. 

“ They  are  his,  without  the  shadow  of  a doubt ! ” exclaimed 
Hedden.  “Here  is  the  handwriting,  blots  and  all,  just  as  I told 
you.  And  you  see  for  yourselves,  gentlemen,  that  the  letters  are 
folded  in  a peculiar  and  awkward  manner.” 

This  identification  of  the  letters  seemed  conclusive.  It  produced 
a profound  impression  upon  Captain  Heins  and  Mr.  Ross. 

“ At  last ! ” exclaimed  Charley’s  uncle. 

Arrangements  were  made  with  the  New  York  detectives  that 
the  Philadelphia  police  should  be  kept  informed  of  all  that  trans- 
pired, and  whatever  assistance  could  be  given  in  Philadelphia 
should  be  forthcoming. 

Captain  Hedden  afterwards  learned  that  Mosher  and  Douglas 
manufactured  a moth  preventive,  which  they  called  “ Mothee.” 
They  travelled  about  the  country  with  a horse  and  wagon,  selling 
this  with  other  small  articles.  He  also  discovered  that  Mosher 
had  a brother-in-law,  William  Westervelt,  a discharged  police  offi- 
cer, of  New  York,  who  was  probably  implicated  in  the  abduction. 

I wrote  the  following  letter  to  Captain  Heins,  of  Philadelphia, 
on  August  n,  1874  : 


“ Dear  Sir : — The  bearer,  Officer  Doyle,  and  another  man,  go  to  your  city,  and 
intend  going  onto  Baltimore,  where  the  family  of  Johnson  (Mosher)  lived  a 
few  weeks  since.  Johnson,  we  think,  is  the  prime  mover  in  the  Ross  abduction. 
Mr.  Doyle  and  the  man  who  is  with  him  both  know  Johnson  and  his  family 
well.  This  Johnson  has  a wife  aiad  four  children.  Sometime  since  he  escaped 
from  jail  at  Freehold,  N.  J.,  while  awaiting  trial  for  burglary.  His  correct 


MISSIVES. 


203 


name  is  William  Mosher.  It  may  be  that  we  are  on  the  wrong  scent;  but  I 
think  not.  If  they  can  locate  Johnson’s  family,  we  can  certainly  find  his  where- 
abouts. 

“ Yours  respectfully, 

“ Geo.  W.  Walling, 

“ Superintendent .” 

The  search  for  Mosher  in  Baltimore  and  Philadelphia  was  disap- 
pointing, and  the  two  men  returned  to  New  York.  On  the  13th  I 
wrote  again  to  Captain  Heins,  as  follows  : 

“ Dear  Sir: — If  we  are  right  in  our  suspicions,  and  the  parties  that  Detective 
Doyle  and  his  companion  are  searching  for  in  Baltimore  are  guilty  of  abducting 
the  Ross  child,  in  all  probability  the  child  is  kept  on  board  of  a small  boat,  and 
may  be  in  your  vicinity. 

“ Y ours,  in  haste, 

“ G.  W.  Walling.” 

I knew  that  “ Bill  ” Mosher  lived  on  the  water,  and  as  he  had 
been  implicated  in  cases  with  river  pirates  this  made  it  tolerably 
clear  that  a boat  would  be  used  by  him  and  Douglas  to  evade 
pursuit.  Pinkerton’s  men  were  engaged  for  awhile  on  the  case, 
yet  with  all  their  endeavors  they  failed  to  discover  anything  relat- 
ing to  the  mystery. 

On  August  24,  1874,  I wrote  to  Captain  Heins  the  following : 

“ Yours  of  22d  received.  I am  more  confident  than  ever  that  the  parties,  Clark 
and  Mosher,  alias  Johnson,  are  the  parties  we  want.  I knew  before  receiving 
your  letter  that  they  were  somewhere  in  this  vicinity.  Some  one  has  let  them 
know  that  they  are  being  looked  after,  and  that  is  the  reason  for  their  change 
of  tone.  They  are  frightened,  and  would,  I believe,  make  terms  very  moderate, 
provided  they  could  be  assured  of  safety.  There  is  no  danger  of  their  going  to 
Europe  ; they  have  no  money,  and  Mosher’s  wife  and  children  would  keep  him 
here.  Of  this  you  can  assure  Mr.  Ross,  providing  I am  right  as  to  the  parties, 
and  I have  no  doubt  of  it.  I think  it  would  be  well  for  Mr.  Ross  to  keep  in 
communication  (if  possible \ with  them. 

“ Yours,  in  haste, 

“ Geo.  W.  Walling, 

“ Superintendent  of  Police .” 

I sent  for  Westervelt,  the  brother-in-law  of  Mosher,  on  August 
18,  and  asked  him  to  assist  me  in  finding  the  men  and  recovering 
the  child.  After  considering  the  matter  a few  days  he  agreed  to 
help  the  police.  I freely  confess  that  Westervelt’s  entrance  into  the 
Charley  Ross  case  was  unfortunate.  I well  knew  his  relationship 
to  Mosher.  “ Set  a thief  to  catch  a thief  ” may  be  a good  method, 


204 


CLEWS  AND  DUPLICITY. 


but  I am  forced  to  say  it  failed  utterly  in  this  case.  I thought,  as 
did  many  with  whom  I consulted,  that  Westervelt  could  be  induced, 
by  a share  in  the  reward,  to  inform  where  the  child  was.  I do  not 
think  Westervelt  knew  where  Charley  Ross  was,  but  that  he  took 
some  part  in  the  abduction  I feel  positive  to  this  day. 

The  following  letter  was  sent  by  me  to  Captain  Heins  on 
September  n : 

“ Dear  Sir : — Since  writing  you  this  a.m.  I have  seen  Westervelt;  he  says 
he  knows  nothing  of  the  whereabouts  of  Mosher.  He  says  Mosher  lived  in 
your  city,  about  four  months  ago,  on  Monroe,  near  Third  Street,  and  that  he 
had  a stable  between  Third  and  Fourth  streets,  in  some  street,  name  not  known, 
but  the  third  or  fourth  street  from  Monroe,  towards  Washington  Avenue. 
The  stable  was  an  old  wooden  building  with  very  large  doors,  and  was  near 
Third  Street.  A wagon  answering  to  the  description  you  gave  me  was  in  said 
stable  at  that  time,  and  may  be  there  yet,  but  probably  not ; they  kept  in  said 
stable  a dark  bay  horse.  He  is  confident  the  horse  has  been  sold,  but  does  .not 
know  to  whom.  I showed  him  the  drawing  of  the  wagon  you  gave  me,  and  he 
says  he  could  not  make  a better  one  had  he  the  wagon  before  him,  except  that 
he  thinks  this  would  not  be  quite  so  much  rounded  at  the  top. 

“Yours,  etc., 

“Geo.  W.  Walling, 

“ Superintendent .” 

It  was  ascertained  that  a family  named  Henderson  had  lived  at 
No.  235  Monroe  Street,  Philadelphia.  This  proved  to  be  the 
name  Mosher  assumed  when  he  went  to  Philadelphia.  It  was  also 
learned  that  Joseph  Douglas  had  lived  with  the  family,  and  that 
Mosher’s  wife  and  children  removed  to  New  York  on  August  18. 
It  was  also  discovered  that  there  had  been  an  old  stable  on  Mar- 
riott’s Lane,  which  had  been  since  torn  down.  A part  of  this 
Mosher  rented,  and  there  he  kept  his  horse  and  wagon. 

An  effort  was  made  to  find  some  of  Mosher’s  writing.  Wester- 
velt was  asked  to  procure  a letter  or  any  paper  that  he  knew 
Mosher  had  written ; but  he  would  not  or  could  not  get  any. 

It  is  certain  that  when  Westervelt  was  aware  that  we  were  on 
the  track  of  his  brother-in-law  he  put  Mosher  and  Douglas  on 
their  guard.  By  means  of  newspaper  advertisements  he  kept  the 
kidnappers  thoroughly  informed  as  to  the  methods  to  be  employed 
by  the  police  in  tracking  them.  He  never  would  admit  that  he 
had  seen  the  men,  but  always  professed  that  he  was  looking  for 
them.  I finally  learned  that  he  had  seen  them,  and  told  him  so. 
Then  he  admitted  that  he  had  met  them  twice,  but  asserted  that 


CONCEALMENT,  FEAR  AND  WANT.  205 

he  could  not  have  informed  me  of  the  meeting  in  time  to  have 
been  of  any  service. 

It  was  one  of  the  most  delicate  and  difficult  of  cases.  I some- 
times dreaded  that  if  probed  too  closely  one  of  the  ruffians  would 
murder  the  child,  so  as  to  efface  all  traces  of  the  crime  of  abduc- 
tion. The  tracking  of  Mosher  and  Douglas  was  continuous,  and 
a weary  chase  it  was,  I having  followed  what  I thought  were 
traces  of  them  for  days  and  nights.  I was  often  close  to  them. 
The  vigilance  of  the  kidnappers  was  that  of  those  who  were 
hunted.  The  innumerable  bays  and  water-courses  about  New 
York  gave  them  the  fullest  opportunity  for  concealment.  I had 
the  evidence  that  the  men  rarely  stopped  in  one  place  more  than 
one  night  in  their  boat.  Often  we  were  so  near  to  their  hiding- 
place  that  we  passed  close  by  it  in  the  dusk.  But  the  search  for 
the  men  continued ; they  were  hunted  as  relentlessly  as  by  blood- 
hounds. So  hard  were  they  pressed  by  the  police  of  New  York 
that  they  were  forced  to  remain  almost  wholly  on  the  water,  visit- 
ing the  city  at  rare  intervals,  and  then  in  the  night.  Soon  they 
were  brought  to  want,  because  of  this,  and  resorted  to  burglary. 

At  two  a.m.  on  December  14,  the  night  pitch-dark, ‘cold  and 
wet,  Mosher  and  Douglas  attempted  to  rob  the  summer  residence 
of  Judge  Van  Brunt,  at  Bay  Ridge,  overlooking  the  Narrows. 
When  they  entered  the  Judge’s  house,  which  was  unoccupied, 
a burglar-alarm  telegraph  rang  a bell  in  the  house  of  Mr.  J.  H. 
Van  Brunt,  the  judge’s  son,  who  lived  across  the  way.  He 
roused  his  son  and  two  men-servants,  and  arming  them,  the 
party  stood  guard  at  the  front  and  back  doors  of  the  judge’s 
residence. 

“Now,  boys,”  said  Mr.  Van  Brunt,  “we  have  work  to  do  and 
must  understand  each  other.  We  must  capture  the  thieves  if 
we  can  without  killing  them,  but  if  they  resist  we  will  have  to  de- 
fend ourselves.  Albert,  you  and  Scott  stand  before  the  front  door  ; 
Frank  and  I will  take  the  rear,  and  whatever  happens  afterwards 
let  us  remain  in  the  positions  we  first  take  up,  because  if  we  move 
around  we  will  be  certain  in  the  dark  to  shoot  one  another  instead 
of  the  thieves.  Whichever  way  they  come  out,  let  the  two  who 
meet  them  take  care  of  them  as  best  they  can.  If  they  come  out 
and  scatter  both  ways  then  we  will  all  have  a chance  to  work.” 

The  men  took  their  places  and  watched  for  an  hour,  while  the 
thieves  w6nt  all  over  the  house.  At  length  they  came  down  to  the 


2o6 


BURGLARY. 


basement.  Through  the  window  of  the  pantry  Mr.  Van  Brunt 
could  see  the  faces  of  the  two  burglars.  He  could  have  shot  them 
as  they  stood,  with  perfect  safety  to  himself,  but  he  did  not  wish 
to  take  life  unless  forced  to  do  so.  He  was  getting  numb  from 
the  effects  of  the  cold. 

“ Frank,”  he  said  to  his  hired  man,  “ we  may  as  well  push 
things.  Take  the  key  and  open  the  back  door  quickly.” 

The  burglars  heard  the  rattle  of  the  key  in  the  key-hole.  In- 
stantly they  put  out  their  light  and  began  to  ascend  the  basement 
or  cellar  stairs.  Mr.  Van  Brunt  heard  their  footsteps. 

“To  the  trap-door  of  the  cellar,  Frank!”  whispered  Mr.  Van 
Brunt. 

The  lock  of  the  door  had  been  broken.  The  door  was  soon 
opened,  and  the  form  of  a man  started  up,  followed  by  the  head 
of  another. 

“ Halt ! ” shouted  Mr.  Van  Brunt. 

Two  pistol-shots  flashed  almost  in  his  face.  They  did  no  in- 
jury. He  fired  at  the  first  man,  and  a cry  of  agony  followed. 

The  other  man  fired  and  ran  towards  the  front  of  the  house. 
There  helmet  young  Mr.  Albert  Van  Brunt,  at  whom  he  fired  two 
shots,  missing  him.  Before  he  could  fire  again  Albert  shattered 
his  arm  with  a blow  from  his  shot-gun. 

With  an  oath  the  thief  retreated,  when  the  elder  Mr.  Van  Brunt 
shot  him  in  the  back.  He  staggered  for  an  instant  and  fell  dead. 

None  of  the  Van  Brunt  party  were  injured,  while  the  burglars 
were  riddled  with  shot  and  bullets.  One  was  dead,  with  his  empty 
revolver  under  his  head.  The  other  lived  about  two  hours.  The 
neighbors  came  rushing  to  the  place.  Water  was  given  the  dying 
man. 

“ Who  are  you,  and  where  did  you  come  from  ?”  several  asked. 

“Men,  I won’t  lie  to  you,”  said  the  dying  man.  “ Mv  name  is 
Joseph  Douglas,  and  that  man  over  there  is  William  Mosher. 
Mosher  lives  in  New  York  City.  I have  no  home.  I am  a single 
man  and  have  no  relatives,  except  a brother  and  sister,  whom  1 
have  not  seen  for  twelve  or  fifteen  years.  Mosher  is  a married 
man  and  has  five  children.” 

Believing  himself  to  be  mortally  wounded,  he  said  : 

“ I have  $40  in  my  pocket.  I wish  to  be  buried  with  it.  I 
made  it  honestly.  It’s  no  use  lying  now.  Mosher  and  I stole 
Charley  Ross  from  Germantown .” 


207 


DEATH  OF  THE  ABDUCTORS. 


2 08 


A FITTING  END. 


“ Why  did  you  steal  him  ? ” 

“To  make  money.” 

“ Who  has  the  child  now  ? ” 

“ Mosher  knows  all  about  the  child  ; ask  him.” 

“ Mosher  is  dead.” 

The  men  then  lifted  Douglas  up  so  that  he  could  see  his  dead 
partner. 

“ God  help  his  poor  wife  and  family  ! ” he  exclaimed. 

“ Can  you  tell  us  where  the  child  is  ? ” he  was  again  asked. 

“God  knows  I tell  you  the  truth,”  he  replied.  “ I don’t  know 
where  he  is.  Mosher  knew.” 

The  same  question  was  repeated.  “ Superintendent  Walling 
knows  all  about  us  and  was  after  us,  and  now  he  shall  have  us. 
Send  him  word.  The  child  will  be  returned  home,  safe  and  sound, 
in  a few  days.” 

“ How  did  you  get  here  ? ” he  was  asked. 

“ We  came  over  in  a sloop  which  is  down  in  the  cove,”  he  an- 
swered. “ Please  do  not  ask  me  any  more  questions.  It  hurts  me 
to  talk  or  move.” 

Writhing  in  agony,  lying  on  the  ground,  drenched  with  rain, 
surrounded  by  darkness,  the  life  of  the  miserable  man  who  had 
caused  so  much  sorrow  and  outraged  the  feelings  of  every  parent 
in  the  country,  went  out.  He  died  like  a dog,  as  was  fit. 

On  the  morning  of  December  14,  Justice  Church,  of  Bay 
Ridge,  sent  me  a telegram,  saying  that  Mosher  and  Douglas  had 
been  killed.  I at  once  dispatched  Detective  Silleck  to  Bay  Ridge, 
who,  as  soon  as  he  saw  the  dead  bodies,  said  : 

“That  is  Joe  Douglas,  and  that  is  ‘Bill’  Mosher.  Take  the 
glove  off  his  left  hand  and  you  will  find  a withered  finger.” 

The  glove  was  removed,  and  the  finger  found,  as  indicated. 
The  first  finger  of  the  left  hand  was  withered  away  to  a point,  the 
result  of  a felon. 

Little  Walter  Ross  was  brought  on  from  Philadelphia,  and  fully 
identified  the  two  bodies  as  they  lay  in  the  Brooklyn  morgue. 
But  this  was  all ; Charley  Ross  was  never  found.  I think  he  is 
dead.  I can  conceive  of  no  possible  reason  why,  after  the  two  kid- 
nappers had  been  killed  and  Westervelt  was  in  prison,  Charley 
Ross  should  not  have  been  returned  had  he  been  alive.  The 
promised  immunity  from  punishment  and  the  reward  offered  by 
the  Mayor  of  Philadelphia  are  good  reasons  for  supposing  that 
the  child,  if  alive,  would  have  been  returned  to  its  parents. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


BURGLARS. — HOW  THEY  WORK. — PRETTY  SERVANT  GIRLS. — A LITTLE 

PIECE  OF  SCARLET  RIBBON. THIEVES  ON  THE  ROOF. A LEAP 

IN  THE  DARK. “ STUTTERING  JOHN  ” ASHORE  IN  JERSEY. — 

HOW  PICKPOCKETS  OPERATE. — A MAN  WHO  KNEW  IT  ALL. — 
ARRESTED  AT  SIGHT. — HOW  I WAS  FINED. — THIEVES  WHO 
TALKED  FROM  THEIR  CELL  DOORS. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  burglary  .is  a fine  art,  when  con- 
sidered in  all  its  various  phases.  The  night  is  usually  the  time 
when  the  burglar  plies  his  vocation,  and  his  operations  are  upon 
the  property  of  all  classes  in  the  community.  Any  one  who  pos- 
sesses anything  worth  stealing  is  liable  to  be  paid  an  unexpected 
and  unwelcome  visit  by  the  house-breaker.  In  a city  like  New 
York  the  number  of  criminals  of  this  class  is  very  large.  Drink- 
ing or  sleeping  is  their  usual  avocation  during  the  daytime,  while 
at  night  they  are  engaged  in  plundering  their  unfortunate  neigh- 
bors. The  complete  prevention  of  their  depredations  has  always 
seemed  to  me  to  be  impossible,  and  the  only  safeguard  against 
their  operations  is  incessant  vigilance  on  the  part  of  store-keepers 
and  householders. 

To  the  uninitiated  it  may  seem  to  be  almost  an  impossibility  in 
some  cases  for  burglars  to  gain  impressions  of  the  keys  of  a large 
store,  for  instance.  But  there  is  nothing  easier  or  simpler.  Having 
selected  the  store  to  be  robbed,  the  rascals  will  first  attempt  to  fit 
a key  to  the  door  from  their  own  stock-in-trade.  If  they  succeed, 
there  will  be  no  further  trouble.  If  not,  they  will  watch  for  the 
opening  of  the  store  in  the  morning  by  the  clerk  or  porter,  and 
follow  him  in  as  if  in  a great  hurry  to  buy  some  small  article. 
It  happens  ten  times  out  of  twelve  that  the  clerk  lays  his  bunch  of 
keys  down  on  the  counter  while  he  goes  for  the  article  required. 
A lump  of  wax,  kept  handy  for  the  purpose,  disposes  of  that  little 
matter  in  a trice,  and  the  key  is  made  at  leisure.  But  suppose  the 
clerk  should  place  the  key  on  a desk  inside  the  office  ? Even  that 
is  a difficulty  easily  surmounted.  The  thief  very  politely  asks  leave 
*4  209 


2 10 


IMPRESSIONS  ON  LOCKS  AND  SERVANTS. 


of  the  clerk  to  address  a few  letters  which  he  is  desirous  of  mailing 
immediately. 

“ Certainly,  sir,”  says  the  unsuspicious  clerk,  bowing  his  cus- 
tomer into  the  office.  With  the  wax  in  his  hand  the  thief  accom- 
plishes his  work  in  a second. 

It  is  queer,  though,  that  people  will  nearly  always  furnish  their 
front  doors  and  windows  with  the  most  formidable  bolts,  bars  and 
locks,  while  they  will  leave  the  back  entrances  to  their  buildings 
almost  entirely  unguarded.  This  is  just  what  the  burglar  wants. 
He  doesn’t  care  to  “ work  ” on  the  front  street.  The  rear  of  the 
building  is  more  secluded,  and  the  thief  is  less  liable  to  interrup- 
tion. Should  the  door  prove  too  formidable  an  obstacle,  the  win- 
dow is  frequently  pried  open  with  an  ingeniously  constructed 
“ jimmy.”  Still  another  way  is  for  the  burglar  to  gain  admission 
to  a house  or  store  in  the  daytime,  and  conceal  himself  in  some 
unoccupied  room  until  dark.  Then  he  emerges  from  his  hiding- 
place  and  ransacks  the  place  at  his  own  sweet  will. 

Servant  girls  are  often  in  league  with  thieves,  and  make  things 
easy  for  their  confederates  by  admitting  them  into  houses  after 
the  family  has  retired  to  rest.  One  such  instance  I well  remem- 
ber, and  as  it  was  nearly  the  first  case  in  which  Inspector  Byrnes, 
now  chief  of  the  detective  force,  was  engaged,  it  deserves  to  be 
told.  A burglary,  committed  in  a very  skilful  manner,  had  oc- 
curred on  Madison  Avenue.  It  was  very  evident  the  perpetrators 
were  expert  hands  at  the  business.  The  house  had  been  entered, 
a safe  unlocked,  the  money  and  jewels  extracted,  and  yet  there 
was  nothing  to  show  how  it  was  all  done.  Despite  all  this,  how- 
ever, Inspector  Byrnes  (he  was  a patrolman  then)  found  a piece  of 
scarlet  ribbon  which  had  been  caught  between  the  sides  of  the 
safe  and  the  inner  drawer.  It  was  not  large,  only  a few  shreds,  but 
it  suggested  an  idea  to  the  detective.  He  put  it  carefully  away  in 
his  pocket-book  and  closely  scrutinized  the  apparel  of  the  dozen  or 
more  female  servants  employed  in  the  house.  Only  one  of  them, 
he  noticed,  was  partial  to  wearing  scarlet  ribbon.  She  was  a 
pretty  girl,  and  was  seen  by  the  officer  on  several  occasions  to  wear 
a ribbon  the  color  of  which  was  the  same  as  that  found  in  the 
safe.  He  waited  and  watched.  One  day,  some  time  after  the 
robber}’,  she  announced  to  her  employer  that  she  had  obtained 
another  situation  which  suited  her  better.  She  left  in  the  middle 
of  the  night.  Byrnes  “ shadowed  ” her,  and  rode  on  the  front  plat- 


steers’s  experience. 


21  I 


form  of  the  Madison  Avenue  car  which  she  boarded.  Going  down 
town  she  left  the  car  at  Canal  Street,  and  hurrying  along  towards 
the  East  River,  entered  a small  tenement  house  on  one  of  the  side 
streets.  Byrnes  was  still  at  her  heels,  and  with  the  aid  of  two 
policemen  the  pretty  servant  girl,  together  with  two  well-known 
rascals,  were  captured.  Completely  cornered,  they  admitted  that 
the  girl  had  only  taken  the  situation  in  order  that  they  might 
more  easily  rob  the  house. 


(From  a Photograph.) 


It  should  be  remembered  that  burglars  always  have  in  mind  a 
way  to  escape  if  they  are  discovered  or  interrupted.  As  a rule, 
they  will  sooner  run  than  fight.  But  get  one  of  them  in  a corner 
and  he  will  fight  to  the  end  in  order  to  escape  arrest.  Searching 
for  a thief  in  a house  on  a dark  night  is  what  tries  the  nerve  of  a 
police  officer.  He  often  gets  in  a tight  place,  taking  fearful  risks. 

I remember  one  experience  which  fell  to  the  lot  of  Inspector 
Steers.  An  alarm  had  been  given  and  Steers  found  his  man  on  the 
second  story  of  a high  building,  picking  out  an  assortment  of  val- 
uable articles  to  carry  away  with  him.  Upon  seeing  Steers  the 


212 


THE  SLOOP. 


thief  leaped  up  the  stairs  towards  the  roof,  almost  like  a flash  of 
lightning,  while  the  officer  followed  as  best  he  could.  All  this  was 
in  the  dark.  Out  through  the  scuttle  upon  the  roof  the  thief  and 
his  pursuer  went.  Steers  did  not  hesitate  even  when  the  fellow 
jumped  off  the  side  of  the  house.  Where  he  was  going  to  land  he 
didn’t  know ; it  seemed  an  age  before  he  struck,  and  when  he  did 
it  was  with  a force  that  nearly  drove  his  legs  up  into  his  body.  But 
he  caught  his  man  and  took  him  to  the  station-house.  The  next 
day  Steers  went  round  and  took  a look  at  the  scene  of  his  advent- 
ure of  the  night  previous,  and  found  that  he  had  jumped  from  one 
roof  to  another,  a distance  of  about  twenty  feet.  He  has  never 
fully  recovered  from  the  shock,  and  never  will. 

It  would  be  impossible  for  me,  without  going  over  ground  that 
has  long  ago  been  covered,  to  give  an  account  of  all  the  big  burgla- 
ries committed  during  my  service  on  the  force  ; but  one  or  two  in- 
cidents occurred  in  connection  with  such  crimes  which  are  not  gen- 
erally known.  For  instance,  during  what  I might  call  a period  of 
“ off-duty,”  I was  standing  on  the  dock  at  Keyport,  N.  J.,  looking  at 
the  craft  in  the  bay.  The  month  of  February  on  the  coast  is  rather 
a stormy  one,  and  on  this  particular  day  a fierce  gale  was  blowing, 
accompanied  by  snow  squalls.  Through  the  rather  obscured  atmos- 
phere I made  out  a small  boat  struggling  with  the  waves.  She  was 
close  hauled,  and  it  was  with  great  difficulty  she  could  be  kept  on 
her  course.  True  to  my  instincts  and  training  (for  my  first  years 
of  service  on  the  police  force  had  developed  a certain  amount  of 
watchfulness),  I watched  the  boat  with  considerable  interest.  She 
was  too  small  for  a fisherman’s  or  oysterman’s  craft,  and  did  not 
look  like  a “ clammer  ” ; it  was  not  the  season  for  pleasure  boats  ; 
and  as  she  came  nearer  the  shore  I determined  to  watch  her. 
After  some  time  she  was  almost  upon  the  sand.  The  individual  in 
charge  seemed  unused  to  the  place,  and  finally  the  wind  drove  her 
on  the  beach  near  by.  Concealing  myself  behind  a convenient 
bulkhead,  I watched  the  crew  of  three  as  they  walked  up  the 
beach.  They  presented  a pitiable  condition — drenched  to  the  skin 
and  stiff  with  the  cold. 

“Perhaps,”  I said  to  myself,  “they  are  a lot  of  fellows  on  a 
spree  who  have  been  blown  up  the  bay.” 

But  it  wasn’t  natural  for  men  to  start  upon  a pleasure  cruise  in 
February.  Scanning  the  party  closely,  I noticed  that  one  of  the 
men  had  a familiar  look  about  him.  It  was  more  in  the  way  he 


ASHORE  IN  JERSEY. 


213 


214 


JOHN  AND  I. 


carried  himself  than  in  his  face,  for  at  this  time  it  was  too  dark 
for  me  to  distinguish  his  features.  The  storm  showed  no  signs  of 
abating,  but  blew  harder  every  minute.  The  men,  therefore,  I 
knew,  would  be  obliged  to  seek  shelter  somewhere  or  other,  and  as 
the  whole  thing  looked  suspicious  I thought  it  would  do  no  harm 
to  keep  an  eye  on  them. 

When  they  had  taken  to  the  main  street  I carelessly  examined 
the  boat.  Had  they  run  off  with  her  ? Were  there  any  stolen 
goods  in  her  ? Should  I try  to  gain  admittance  ? They  might 
have  left  a man  on  board.  I therefore  thought  it  wiser  to  leave 
the  boat  alone  for  the  present  and  follow  the  men.  The  villagers — 
for  Keyport  in  those  days  was  a smaller  place  than  it  is  now — were 
also  curious.  A man  named  Poling,  noticing  the  strange  arrival, 
wanted  to  find  out  the  character  of  the  craft.  He  strolled  on 
board,  and  looking  through  the  windows  of  the  little  cabin — the 
door  was  locked — saw  what  he  thought  were  bolts  of  silk.  He 
and  I were  acquainted,  and  on  making  the  discovery  he  came 
directly  to  me  with  the  information.  I was  then  absolutely  certain 
that  things  were  “crooked.”  The  crew  of  the  boat  had  gone  to 
one  of  the  hotels  in  the  place,  and  there  I went.  Entering  cau- 
tiously, who  should  I see,  warming  himself  by  the  stove,  but  John 
Monahan,  commonly  called  “Stuttering  John”: — a well  known 
river  thief.  John  and  I had  come  in  contact  some  years  previously. 
Though  he  did  not  speak,  my  recognition  of  him  was  immediate. 
Perhaps  he  was  not  quite  thawed  out,  for  he  did  not  notice  my 
opening  the  door.  Having  put  my  head  in,  I immediately  with- 
drew it.  With  “Stuttering  John”  there  were  three  other  men. 
One  I knew  by  his  face  as  a river  pirate.  The  others  I did  not 
recognize. 

I was  well  acquainted  with  Keyport  oystermen,  a brave  and 
honest  set  of  men,  and  I enrolled  several  of  them  to  help  me.  At 
once  I returned  to  the  hotel,  and,  facing  “ Stuttering  John,”  told 
him  he  was  a thief,  and  that  I should  arrest  him  and  his  party. 
John  gave  in  at  once,  and  offered  no  resistance,  and  his  companions 
followed  the  action  of  their  leader.  We  held  them  prisoners  at 
the  hotel,  sitting  up  with  them  all  night. 

On  the  next  morning  we  escorted  them  to  the  steam-boat  and 
took  them  to  New  York.  Captain  Arrowsmith  was  in  command  of 
the  steamer,  and  at  my  request  he  ran  the  boat  near  the  dock,  so 
that  I could  jump  off  first  When  I*had  done  that  the  boat  was 


A RUN,  RECEPTION  AND  RECITAL. 


215 


backed  off  into  the  stream.  I ran  as  hard  as  I could  to  Mr.  Mat- 
sell’s  office,  and  reported  my  haul.  I was  so  much  out  of  breath 
that  I had  some  trouble  in  making  my  matter  plain.  Strange  to 
say,  my  sudden  entrance  into  the  office  had  interrupted  Mr.  Cunard, 
of  the  Cunard  line  of  steamers,  who  was  explaining  to  Mr.  Matsell 
the  particulars  of  the  robbery  of  a bonded  warehouse  in  Jersey 
City,  two  nights  before.  When  I had  concluded,  Mr.  Cunard  said  : 
“The  goods  stolen  were  silks.” 

“I  have  got  them,”  I cried — “the  thieves  and  the  property.”  It 
was  one  of  those  lucky  accidents.  At  once  Mr.  Matsell  touched 
his  bell,  and  several  officers  were  called,  who  accompanied  me  to 
the  North  River.  I signalled  the  captain  of  the  steamer.  The 
boat  made  a landing  and  the  thieves  were  taken  to  the  chief’s 
office. 

Now  that  I knew  the  offence  had  been  committed  in  New  Jersey, 
the  prisoners  had  to  be  conveyed  there.  Of  course  we  had  secured 
the  silks  in  the  boat.  “ Stuttering  John  ” obtained  the  services  of 
a lawyer,  who  served  a habeas  corpus,  declared  that  we  had  no 
legal  right  to  convey  Monahan  from  New  York  to  New  Jersey,  and 
insisted  that  a warrant  from  the  governor,  or  extradition  papers, 
were  necessary.  I had  to  show  that  the  shortest  way  from  Key- 
port  to  Jersey  City  was  via  New  York,  by  steamer,  as  there  were 
no  railways  in  those  days.  I had  the  party  lodged  in  the  Hudson 
County  jail.  Justice,  even  Jersey  justice,  is  not  always  swift  or 
sure.  Some  of  the  thieves  escaped.  Monahan’s  punishment  was 
not  in  proportion  to  his  crime.  The  silks  were  worth  $2500,  and 
with  the  exception  of  one  piece  all  were  recovered. 

How  Monahan  and  his  party  had  found  themselves  at  Keyport 
was  afterwards  explained.  The  robbery  of  the  bonded  warehouse 
took  place  at  Jersey  City.  The  goods  had  to  be  carried  across  by 
the  thieves  to  New  York  for  concealment  and  subsequent  disposal. 
In  crossing  the  North  River  and  trying  to  round  the  Battery,  the 
gale  took  them  and  they  were  carried  down  the  bay.  The  weather 
was  so  thick  that  they  did  not  know  where  they  were  going,  and 
at  last;  they  were  blown  clean  twenty-six  miles  from  New  York,  glad 
enough  to  make  a landing  anywhere.  They  had  been  probably  all 
night  on  the  water,  and  without  fire  or  food,  and  had  suffered  a 
great  deal.  A man  subsequently  claimed  the  boat,  which  had 
been  stolen. 

There  is  an  amusing  sequence  to  this  story,  not  so  amusing  to 


2 1 6 


VIRTUE  MV  ONLY  REWARD. 


me  at  the  time,  as  it  will  be  to  the  reader.  I had  to  pay  for 
the  supper  and  breakfast  of  the  prisoners,  the  escort  of  oystermen 
for  their  time  and  the  fare  of  the  whole  crowd  on  the  boat — 
amounting  in  all  to  $40,  a good  deal  of  money  for  a policeman  to 
pay  out  of  his  pocket  in  those  days.  The  owner  of  the  silks  would 
not  reimburse  me : the  bonded  warehouse  people  respectfully  de- 
clined ; the  great  Cunard  Company  was  unwilling  to  pay,  all  prefer- 
ring to  let  the  man  who  had  restored  the  property*  suffer  by  their 
gain : so  this  little  bit  of  detective  work  was  carried  out  at  my  own 
private  expense.  This,  however,  I did  not  so  much  mind.  The 
sense  of  justice  done  compensated  me.  I suppose  that  my  subse- 
quent promotion  was  due  to  several  fairly  clever  pieces  of  work 
of  somewhat  the  same  character. 

On  the  occasion  of  the  public  reception  offered  to  the  Japanese 
ambassadors  upon  their  arrival  in  New  York  in  i860,  a tremendous 
crowd  assembled  in  the  streets.  On  Broadway,  especially  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  Metropolitan  Hotel,  the  sidewalks  were 
thronged.  As  captain  of  the  detective  force,  it  was  my  duty  to  be 
constantly  in  the  streets,  and  to  do  my  best  to  prevent  those  depre- 
dations on  the  public  which  are  always  committed  on  such  occa- 
sions : for  a large  crowd  in  the  streets  or  elsewhere  is  the  pick- 
pockets’ carnival. 

It  happened  that  on  the  very  evening  the  Japanese  arrived  I had 
about  my  person  a large  amount  of  money.  I was  not  in  uniform, 
and  in  order  to  mix  better  with  the  crowd  and  be  unobserved,  I 
donned  a rough  suit  of  clothes : and,  taking  my  roll  of  bank  bills, 
stuffed  it  down  my  boot-leg,  tucking  my  trousers  inside  my  boots. 
I mingled  freely  with  the  people,  and  saw  that  my  men  were  properly 
distributed  and  on  the  alert. 

When  on  the  edge  of  the  crowd,  near  the  Metropolitan  Hotel,  I 
noticed  a very  well-dressed  and  pompous-looking  man,  who  was  el- 
bowing his  way  through  the  throng.  He  wore  a handsome  gold 
chain,  to  which  a big  watch  was  attached : for  I could  see  the  out- 
line of  it  in  his  waistcoat  pocket.  His  coat  was  wide  open : in  fact, 
he  was  making  a display  of  his  jewellery.  He  was  a walking  invi- 
tation for  a pickpocket. 

As  he  pushed  up  near  me,  I said,  very  quietly,  to  him,  “ My 
friend,  if  you  go  into  this  crowd  in  that  manner  you  will  be  very 
likely  to  lose  your  watch.” 


CHANGED  HIS  MIND. 


217 


The  gentleman  turned  on  me  in  an  aggrieved  manner,  as  if  re- 
senting my  officiousness,  and  said,  “Who  are  you  ?” 

“No  matter  who  I am,”  was  my  reply;  “I  only  warn  you  that 
you  will  pretty  certainly  lose  your  watch  if  you  go  in  there.  That’s 
all.” 

“ Sir,”  was  his  angry  retort,  “ I want  to  know  who  you  are,  and 
why  you  presume  to  give  me  advice  ? ” 

“ Well,  if  you  desire  to  know,  I am  an  officer,  and  belong  to  the 
detective  department,”  was  my  answer. 

“All  right!”  he  retorted  spitefully,  “if  I do  lose  my  watch  I 
shall  never  ask  you  to  recover  it.” 

“ Very  well,”  I replied,  in  perfect  good  humor ; and  a moment 
afterwards  I had  left  him  and  was  working  my  way  into  the  crowd. 

On  the  very  next  day,  I was  sitting  at  my  desk  in  the  basement 
of  the  detective  office  examining  some  reports,  when  who  should  I 
see  approaching  me  but  this  very  gentleman,  who  had,  notwith- 
standing my  advice,  insisted  on  decorating  his  manly  breast  with  a 
conspicuous  gold  watch  and  chain.  At  once,  from  his  expression, 
which  was  not  quite  so  pompous  and  self-assured  as  on  the  even- 
ing before,  I made  out  that  something  was  wrong.  The  gentle- 
man asked  quite  meekly  : 

“ Can  I see  the  captain  ? I have  a complaint  to  make.” 

“ I presume  so,  sir,”  was  my  reply.  “ You  lost  your  watch  and 
chain  before  the  Metropolitan  Hotel  last  evening,  at  about  seven 
o’clock.” 

“I  did,”  was  his  astonished  answer;  “but  how  do  you  know 
that  ? ” 

“I  am  the  identical  person,”  I replied,  “ who  took  every  measure 
to  caution  you  yesterday  evening,  and  you  said  to  me  that  if  you 
lost  your  watch  I would  be  the  last  person  you  would  come  to  in 
order  that  you  might  recover  it;  but  it  looks  as  if  you  have  come 
to  me  after  all.” 

The  gentleman  seemed  to  be  quite  taken  aback.  His  loss  an- 
noyed him  exceedingly,  and  there  was  certainly  reason  for  it,  be- 
cause it  had  been  entirely  his  own  fault. 

“ Do  you  think  you  could  get  the  watch  and  chain  back  ? ” he 
inquired. 

“ I do  not  know,  but  you  may  be  assured  I will  try  and  do  my 
very  best,”  I answered. 

It  was  of  course  my  duty  to  make  every  exertion  to  recover  any 


2l8 


HOW  THEY  WORK. 


stolen  property,  but  my  pride  in  this  particular  matter  made  me 
work  very  hard  to  get  that  watch.  It  was  months  before  I had  to 
give  it  up,  and  I regret  to  say  the  gentleman  never  saw  his  watch 
and  chain  again. 

Persons  who  have  never  been  robbed  by  a pickpocket  believe 
that  they  enjoy  a certain  immunity  from  such  depredations,  and 
flatter  themselves  that  it  is  owing  to  their  own  superior  cleverness 
and  watchfulness  that  they  have  hitherto  escaped.  But  experience 
tells  me  that  even  those  most  on  their  guard  suffer  at  times  from 
the  operations  of  pickpockets.  It  is  never  safe  to  get  into  a crowd 
in  New  York;  that  is,  if  you  have  anything  valuable  in  your  pock- 
ets, for  a crowd,  as  I have  said  before,  is  the  pickpocket’s  oppor- 
tunity. Thieves  in  this  particular  calling  work  in  parties  of  from 
three  to  five.  One  of  the  rascals  will  tip  a man’s  hat  as  if  by  acci- 
dent, while  another  jostles  him.  The  man,  who  is  afraid  his  hat  will 
fall  off,  raises  his  hands  to  secure  it.  A third  person  pushes  him, 
and  the  fourth  pickpocket,  called  “the  wire,”  takes  the  watch 
or  the  pocket-book.  Prior  to  all  this,  the  man  to  be  robbed  has 
been  carefully  looked  over,  and  the  way  his  watch  is  secured  or 
the  location  of  his  wallet  has  been  determined.  If  the  wallet  is  in 
a deep  pocket  in  his  trousers  two  hands  may  be  used  by  the  pick- 
pocket, one  to  lift  or  press  the  wallet  upwards,  and  two  fingers  of 
the  other  hand  to  extract  the  treasure.  A wallet  put  in  a pistol 
pocket  is  readily  lifted  in  a crowd.  When  a watch  is  to  be 
taken,  the  thief,  with  his  thumb  and  forefinger,  forces  the  ring  of 
the  watch  open,  which  disconnects  the  chain,  and  as  this  springs 
readily  the  time-piece  is  easily  removed.  ’ The  old-fashioned 
way  of  keeping  the  watch  and  chain  in  the  fob  pocket  is  the  safest, 
for  then  nothing  is  exposed.  The  best  place  to  keep  money  is  in 
a pocket  inside  of  the  waistcoat,  which  should  be  secured  by  a 
button.  Then  when  the  "waistcoat  is  fastened  up  it  is  very  difficult 
for  a pickpocket  to  get  at  the  money.  Nevertheless,  I have  known 
wallets  to  have  been  taken  when  placed  inside  waistcoat  pockets. 
There  is  but  one  rule  for  those  who  venture  into  a crowd  in  New 
York,  and  this  is  to  leave  watch,  money  and  all  valuables  at  home, 
and  never  to  carry  more  than  some  small  change. 

In  the  street-cars  losses  are  frequent.  A crowded  car  is  just 
arranged  for  a pickpocket’s  work.  The  man  to  be  robbed  is 
hanging  on  to  a strap,  and  before  and  behind  him  is  a thief,  the 
one  who  is  to  be  the  “ wire  ” being  generally  provided  with  an 


“i  HAVE  ADVISED  MY  CLIENTS.”  219 

overcoat  or  duster,  which  he  carries  on  his  arm.  In  the  swaying 
of  the  car  the  opportunity  is  found.  Nothing  is  easier  than  for  a 
pickpocket  to  filch  a diamond  breastpin  under  such  circumstances. 
If  the  diamond  be  of  some  value  the  wearer  of  it  will  have  been 
followed  many  times,  and  at  all  hours.  The  pickpockets  wait 
patiently  for  the  favorable  opportunity.  A half  dozen  futile  efforts 
may  have  been  made  before  the  thieves  are  finally  successful. 

I have  never  had  my  pocket  picked,  though  in  the  course  of  my 
duty  I have  been  in  all  parts  of  New  York,  and  of  course  a great 
deal  in  crowds,  and  in  such  dress  as  did  not  show  that  I had  any 
connection  with  the  police  force.  Once  when  in  a crowded  car  in 
the  Bowery  I saw  the  car  invaded  by  a rush  of  men  who  I knew 
were  pickpockets.  I at  once  addressed  them  in  a short  speech, 
which  was  neither  very  chaste  or  polite.  They  recognized  me  at 
the  very  first  word  and  a stampede  was  instantaneous. 

While  I was  captain  of  the  detectives,  the  losses  inflicted  on  the 
public  by  pickpockets,  when  crowds  were  assembled,  were  so  seri- 
ous at  one  time,  occasioning  so  many  complaints,  that  I adopted  a 
rule  that  has  been  kept  up  ever  since,  which  was  to  arrest  all  well- 
known  pickpockets  when  seen  in  a crowd,  or  in  the  vicinity  of  large 
assemblies,  and  to  keep  them  in  durance  until  the  crowd  had  dis- 
persed. When  this  method  was  at  first  sanctioned,  a well-known 
criminal  lawyer  came  to  police  headquarters  and  protested  against 
my  arresting  suspicious  characters,  insisting  that  I had  no  right  to 
do  so,  as  they  had  committed  no  crime,  and,  as  he  argued,  “ they 
were  not  amenable  to  justice.”  It  was,  he  stated,  a base  usurpa- 
tion of  the  rights  of  free  men,  etc.,  etc.  This  gentleman’s  perora- 
tion was  peculiarly  dramatic.  “ I have  advised  my  clients,”  he 
said,  “ to  shoot  the  officers  down  the  very  next  time  they  arrest 
them,  when  the  latter  have  not  been  engaged  in  committing  any 
crime.” 

I do  not  think  what  this  advocate  said  impressed  me  very  much, 
for  my  reply  was,  “ Pshaw  ! Two  can  play  at  that  game.” 

“You  know  you  have  no  legal  right  to  make  such  arrests  unless 
you  have  some  charges  against  them,  and  they  can  bring  suit 
against  you  for  false  imprisonment,”  he  continued. 

“Yes,  sir,”  I answered,  “I  know  that,  and  I will  pay  all  the 
judgments  your  clients  may  get.”  So  the  matter  ended. 

The  excellence  of  this  method  became  immediately  evident,  for 
the  practice  of  the  trade  of  a pickpocket  in  a crowd  became  more 


220 


TEN  DAYS’  PAY. 


difficult.  As  he  might  be  arrested  on  sight,  he  found  it  wisest  to 
be  absent. 

The  female  pickpocket  abounds  in  New  York,  but  she  preys 
only  on  her  own  sex.  The  habit  women  have  of  keeping  their 
porte-monnaie  in  their  hands  is  a constant  source  of  temptation. 
As  it  cannot  always  be  kept  in  the  hand,  the  female  pickpocket 
watches  patiently  until  the  woman  puts  it  in  the  pocket  of  her 
dress,  which,  though  not  visible  to  men,  is  at  once  located  by 
a woman  who  is  a thief,  and  a porte-monnaie  is  much  more  readily 
abstracted  from  a woman’s  pocket  than  from  a man’s.  As  women 
rarely  go  into  streets  where  crowds  assemble,  it  is  in  cars  and 
principally  in  the  stores  where  these  female  pickpockets  carry  on 
their  business.  The  work  is  generally  done  by  two  women,  and 
shop-lifting  often  enters  into  the  line  of  business  of  these  female 
depredators.  When  an  old,  or  even  a young  lady,  carries  too 
ostentatiously  in  the  street  a bag  containing  her  purse,  it  is  occa- 
sionally snatched  from  her  by  some  young  thief,  who  trusts  to  his 
legs  to  escape  capture.  In  such  cases  it  has  generally  turned  out 
that  the  amount  of  money  the  lady  is  in  the  habit  of  carrying  has 
been  the  object  of  study  beforehand. 

I was  fined  ten  days’  pay  once  for  violating  the  law,  and  that,  too, 
when  I was  at  the  head  of  the  machinery  established  to  enforce  it. 
How  it  happened  the  reader  will  learn  from  the  following  story  : 

Detective  “ Dick  ” King  reported  at  headquarters  one  day  that 
he  had  found  a lot  of  bonds,  payment  of  which  had  been  stopped 
because  they  had  been  stolen.  We  found  that  some  time  before, 
on  January  17,  1875,  Ike  Adams  Express  Company  had  been 
robbed.  The  company  had  kept  quiet  about  it,  and  instead  of 
confiding  the  matter  to  us,  had  put  it  in  the  hands  of  private  de- 
tectives. Some  persons  prefer  that  way.  But  when  the  bonds 
were  found  by  Detective  King  I put  him  on  the  case.  He  tracked 
the  missing  papers  and  laid  his  hand  on  the  thieves.  Chief  of 
these  was  Daniel  Haurey,  the  man  who  drove  the  Adams  Express 
wagon  containing  the  safe  on  the  night  of  the  robbery.  This  man 
carted  express  packages  across  the  North  River  to  the  Jersey  City 
depot.  With  miscellaneous  packages  of  all  sizes  and  shapes, 
there  was  a little  iron  safe  containing  money,  bonds  and  jewellery. 
Investigations  at  the  Adams  Express  Company’s  office  revealed  the 
facts  that  this  safe  was  securely  locked  ; that  it  was  put  in  Haurey ’s 
wagon  ; that  Haurey  drove  off ; that  the  safe  was  apparently  never 


221 


ADAMS  EXPRESS  ROBBERY. 


222 


BETWEEN  THE  CELLS. 


received  in  Jersey  City;  and  that  Haurey  came  back  without  it 
and  swore  he  delivered  it.  The  loss  was  over  $50,000. 

When  a portion  of  the  missing  goods  was  found,  we  arrested 
Haurey  and  a crony  of  his  named  John  Sweeney,  and  confined  them 
in  adjoining  cells,  cautiously  letting  them  know  that  they  were 
neighbors.  It  was  not  long  before  they  began  to  talk,  each  from 
his  cell  door.  Our  detectives  overheard  them,  of  course,  and  the 
robbers,  as  usual,  “ gave  themselves  away.”  It  was  disclosed  that 
the  bonds  and  most  of  the  money  were  concealed  under  the  flag 
stones  in  the  cellar  of  a plumber’s  shop  somewhere  in  Nassau 
Street. 

We  confronted  Sweeney  with  his  crime,  and  told  him  so  much 
that  he  concluded  his  “ pal  ” had  “ peached  ; ” and  then  he  was 
eager  to  tell  all  he  knew.  He  said  that  some  of  the  “stuff”  had 
been  sold  to  a receiver  by  the  name  of  Moses  Ehrich.  Moses  was 
arrested,  gave  bail,  and  fled  to  Canada. 

From  Sweeney’s  disclosures,  it  was  ascertained  that  when 
Haurey  got  over  to  the  Jersey  City  depot  he  shoved  the  little  safe 
up  nearer  the  wagon  seat,  flung  a horse  blanket  over  it,  5nd  failed 
to  deliver  it.  He  then  drove  to  a secluded  place,  where  the  rob- 
bers broke  open  the  safe  with  tools  and  obtained  the  contents,  and 
on  the  return  the  safe  was  thrown  in  the  river.  Sweeney  took  and 
secreted  the  plunder  in  the  Nassau  Street  cellar,  then  Haurey 
drove  directly  back  to  the  New  York  office,  to  escape  suspicion. 

Sweeney  went  on  the  stand  ; and  Haurey  was  convicted  within  a 
month  of  the  time  of  the  robbery,  and  was  sent  to  prison  for  five 
years.  Most  of  the  valuables  were  recovered. 

Now  as  to  my  fine.  After  Haurey’s  conviction,  his  counsel,  A. 
Oakey  Hall,  asked  that  sentence  be  deferred.  The  request  was 
granted.  He  then  sent  up  a charge  against  me,  enclosing  a written 
communication  to  the  police  commissioners,  alleging  that  I had 
violated  the  law  by  keeping  Haurey  over  Sunday  after  arresting 
him,  before  taking  him  to  a police  court.  The  law  requires  that  a 
man  under  arrest  shall  be  taken  before  a police  magistrate  at  the 
next  sitting  of  the  court.  I did  not  send  Haurey  up  for  examina- 
tion till  Monday  morning,  because  I had  reason  to  believe  that 
greater  promptness  would  defeat  the  ends  of  justice.  I was  mor- 
ally, and  Hall  was  technically,  right.  He  asked  me  before  the 
commissioners  if  I did  not  know  I was  violating  a clause  of  the 
police  law. 


MORALLY  RIGHT. 


223 


“Yes,”  I said;  “I  knew  it  was  a technical  violation.” 

“ How  came  you  to  violate  the  law  ? ” he  asked,  with  some 
harshness. 

“ 1 did  it  purposely  and  deliberately,”  I replied,  “ in  order  that 
I might  insure  not  only  the  conviction  of  the  prisoner,  but  the  re- 
covery of  the  property.  I had  reason  to  fear  that  if  I brought  the 
prisoner  to  court  on  Sunday  the  property  would  escape  from  its 
hiding-place.” 

The  charge  made  against  me  yvas  sustained  by  the  police  com- 
missioners. They  knew  I was  right,  but  found  that  the  law  did 
not  allow  them  any  option,  for  it  imperatively  prescribed  a positive 
penalty — either  dismissal  or  a fine.  They  fined  me  ten  days’  pay — 
about  $160.  The  law  ought  to  give  commissioners  some  option  in 
cases  like  this.  John  Hoey,  of  the  express  company,  offered  to 
refund  the  money  to  me ; but  I declined  to  receive  it  without  the 
consent  of  the  police  board.  Of  course  their  own  action  prevented 
their  giving  their  sanction  to  my  being  reimbursed ; so  that  was 
the  last  of  it. 

After  Haurey’s  liberation  he  sought  fresh  fields.  He  finally  at- 
tained the  position  of  a police-marshal  in  New  Orleans,  his  native 
city,  and  about  Christmas  time,  1884,  he  got  into  a quarrel  and 
was  killed. 


L 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


THE  COMPLETE  STORY  OF  THE  ROBBERY  OF  A.  T.  STEWART^  GRAVE. — 
WORK  OF  THE  GHOULS. — CONCEALMENT  OF  THE  BODY. DE- 
MAND FOR  A RANSOM. MRS.  STEWART’S  DISTRESS. JUDGE 

hilton’s  refusal  to  pay  the  robbers. — final  negotia- 
tions.  THE  BONES  OF  THE  MILLIONAIRE  EXCHANGED  FOR 

MONEY  UPON  A HILL  IN  WESTCHESTER  COUNTY. — RESTORED 
AND  BORNE  TO  THE  CATHEDRAL  VAULT. — THE  GOBLIN  BELLS. 

“ My  God  ! ” 

This  exclamation  sprang  from  the  lips  of  a man  unused  to  so 
vigorous  an  utterance,  and  he  turned  pale  and  clutched  the 
tall  iron  fence  near  him.  The  speaker  was  Frank  Parker,  the 
assistant-sexton  of  old  St.  Mark’s  Church,  whose  grounds  are 
bounded  by  Second  Avenue,  Stuyvesant,  Tenth  hnd  Eleventh 
streets — a church  once  fashionable,  and  still  rich  and  powerful. 

It  was  an  hour  after  dawn  one  wet  and  gloomy  Wednesday 
in  November,  1878.  Parker  had  just  entered  the  ancient  church- 
yard, and  he  stood  as  if  paralyzed  as  his  eyes  were  fixed  on  new 
earth  that  had  been  upturned  at  the  mouth  of  the  vault  where  the 
remains  of  A.  T.  Stewart,  the  merchant-millionaire,  had  been 
deposited  thirty  months  before. 

“ My  God  ! ” he  repeated,  with  a tremor  of  fear  and^grief  in  his 
voice.  “ They’ve  done  it  at  last ! ” 

He  understood  that  the  Stewart  tomb  had  been  probably 
robbed  ; that  he  was  one  of  the  only  two  or  three  men  who  knew 
its  exact  location ; that  the  horrible  crime  would  convulse  the 
city;  and  that  he  would  be  suspected  of  participating  in  it  by 
those  who  did  not  know  him.  He  stood  a minute  gazing  nerve- 
lessly, and  then  gathering  up  his  thoughts,  he  walked  across  the 
grass  to  the  tell-tale  heap  of  fresh  clay.  Thence  he  ran  and  told 
his  superior  officer,  Sexton  Hamill,  who  was  still  in  his  home  near 
by  on  Tenth  Street. 

Hamill  hurried  to  the  spot,  and  descended  into  the  vault. 

224 


225 


“ they’ve  done  it  at  last.” 

There  he  found  his  fears  confirmed — it  had  been  rifled  of  the 
remains  of  the  dead  millionaire.  Then  he  ran  over  to  the  great 
store,  a block  up  Fourth  Avenue,  rushing  breathless  into  the  glass 
office,  only  to  find  that  Judge  Hilton  had  not  yet  arrived.  The 
sexton  did  not  wait.  He  at  once  called  a cab  and  drove  to  the 
judge’s  house,  next  door  to  Stewart’s  marble  palace  on  Thirty- 
fourth  Street.  He  gave  the  butler  a message  that  his  business 


was  of  extreme  urgency,  and  the  master  of  the  house  soon  made 
his  appearance.  The  sexton  exclaimed  : 

“ The  vault  has  been  robbed,  sir ; Mr.  Stewart’s  body  has  been 
taken  away  ! — I am  sorry.” 

The  lawyer  made  no  reply.  He  thought  a moment,  took  a 
chair,  and  then  without  asking  his  visitor  to  be  seated,  looked 
long  and  earnestly  at  him.  The  sexton  was  ill  at  ease.  He  stood 
with  furtive  eyes  and  fidgeted  with  his  cap.  “All  gone;  no 

15 


226 


ONE  OF  THE  SEXTONS? 


traces  left  as  I can  see,”  he  added,  to  relieve  his  embarrassment. 
Hilton  still  regarded  him  fixedly. 

“You  say  you  are  ‘sorry’  such  a thing  should  happen?”  he 
suddenly  asked,  cross-examining. 

“Why,  yes,  sir;  very  sorry,  of  course.” 

“‘Sorry,’  eh?”  repeated  the  judge,  with  sarcastic  emphasis. 
“ That’s  singular.” 

“ Singular ! ” said  the  sexton,  quickly  looking  up.  Then  he  saw 
what  was  in  the  judge’s  mind,  and  he  regretfully  added:  “Will 
you  come  over  and  look  for  yourself,  sir  ? ” 

“No;  I’ll  go  down  to  police  headquarters,”  replied  the  judge, 
reaching  for  his  coat. 

Hamill  hurried  down  town  and  went  to  the  vault  again.*  “ Sex- 
ton right  here  for  twenty  years,”  he  said,  bitterly,  “ and  a member 
of  the  church  and  living  an  upright  life,  to  be  suspected  now  of 
this  horrid  thing  ! ” 

I was  not  at  headquarters  when  Judge  Hilton  got  there.  When 
I did  arrive  of  course  I was  amazed.  It  was  the  first  time  I had 
ever  seriously  considered  a crime  of  that  sort.  I went  over  and 
examined  the  premises.  The  vault  was  in  the  centre  of  the  yard, 
east  of  the  church,  and  seemed,  prior  to  the  digging,  to  have  been 
unmarked  and  concealed  from  sight.  It  would  be  impossible  to 
imagine  a more  exposed  or  difficult  location  for  a grave-robbery. 
An  iron  fence,  ten  feet  high,  runs  around  the  yard.  The  members 
of  many  old  New  York  families  were  buried  here,  the  Stewart  vault 
being  flanked  by  those  of  Thomas  Bibby  and  Benjamin  Winthrop. 

The  rifled  vault  was  of  brick,  io  x 15  feet  and  12  feet  deep; 
the  top  was  covered  with  three  feet  of  earth.  It  was  entered  by 
a square  hole  in  the  roof,  from  which  descended  twelve  stone 
steps  to  the  bottom.  This  entrance  was  covered  with  three  mar- 
ble slabs,  and  these  in  turn  with  three  or  four  inches  of  sod  on  a 
level  with  the  surrounding  turf,  entirely  hiding  any  suggestion  of 
an  entrance.  It  did  really  look  as  if  one  of  the  sextons  must  have 
been  implicated  in  the  robbery,  and  on  this  Judge  Hilton  firmly 
insisted,  as  he  explained  : 

“ You  don’t  know,  I suppose,  that  an  attempt  was  made  to  steal 
the  body  last  month  ? Yes.  On  October  9th,  just  four  weeks 
ago,  the  sexton  discovered  that  the  Stewart  slab  had  been  lifted 
from  its  bed  and  put  back  again.  It  had  been  done  clumsily,  and 
one  end  of  the  marble  had  been  dropped  on  the  grass;  perhaps 


227 


ST.  MARK’S  CHURCH.— STEALING  STEWART’S  REMAINS. 


228 


NOBODY  NEAR  THE  YARD. 


the  intruders  had  descended  to  the  vault,  but  neither  the  casket 
nor  the  brick  pedestal  on  which  it  rested  had  been  tampered  with. 
I discovered  clay  on  the  lock  of  the  Eleventh-Street  gate,  like  that 
over  the  vault,  and  I had  new  patent  locks  put  on  the  gate,  and 
the  name-slab,  which  was  before  exposed,  taken  up  and  removed 
to  a vacant  spot  some  ten  feet  south-west  and  sunk  in  the  grass  to 
mislead  other  ghouls.  The  old  place  was  carefully  sodded  over. 
I then  hired  Michael  Burton,  night-watchman  of  the  livery  stable 
across  the  street,  to  visit  the  churchyard  every  hour  and  warn 
trespassers  from  the  enclosure,  without  saying  anything  to  him 
about  Stewart’s  vault.  There  was  no  disturbance,  and  Burton’s 
services  were  dispensed  with  three  days  ago.” 

That  is  what  Judge  Hilton  said. 

We  sent  for  Sexton  Hamill  next,  and  he  came  and  told  all  he 
knew  about  it,  adding  to  the  information  already  in  hand  this : 

“ I can’t  imagine  how  anybody  knew  where  that  stone  was.  Its 
approximate  location  was  known  to  three  of  us  only,  and  even  I, 
who  knew  it  best,  couldn’t  have  gone  straight  to  it  the  first  time, 
on  a dark  night,  as  these  villains  seem  to  have  done.  They  must 
have  obtained  perfect  measurements  of  the  place.  Perhaps  they 
were  watching  from  a convenient  nook  when  we  took  up  the  name- 
stone  and  hid  it.” 

The  night  before  the  robbery  had  been  a rainy  one.  At  mid- 
night snow  fell.  The  police  saw  nobody  near  the  yard.  The  per- 
sons in  the  adjacent  houses  saw  no  one.  The  Rev.  Dr.  Rylance 
had  married  a couple  in  the  vestry  as  late  as  9.30  p.m.  He  left  at 
ten  o’clock,  walking  out  past  the  Stewart  vault  and  noticing  noth- 
ing unusual. 

The  robbers  did  their  fiendish  work  in  the  blackness  of  the 
night  and  left  hardly  any  clews.  I put  inspectors  Murray  and 
Dilks  on  the  case.  The  following  alarm  was  sent  out  that  after- 
noon : 

“ Central  Office,  Nov.  7,  1878. 

“ To  All : — The  remains  of  A.  T.  Stewart  were  last  night  stolen  from  the 
family  vault,  St.  Mark’s  Churchyard.  The  casket  was  found  broken  and  the 
body  removed.  The  decomposition  of  the  remains  is  so  offensive  that  they 
cannot  be  concealed.  This  is  apparent  from  standing  at  the  opening  of  the 
vault  this  morning ; consequently  the  body  cannot  be  taken  across  the  ferries 
or  placed  anywhere  above  ground  without  discovery.  Cause  diligent  search  to 
be  made  in  your  precinct,  as  the  remains  were  evidently  stolen  in  hope  of 
reward. 


“ Inspector  Dilks.” 


THERE  THE  CLEW  ENDED. 


229 


The  robbers  seemed  to  have  gone  directly  to  the  spot,  without 
experimenting  in  surrounding  sod.  The  decoy  name-slab  had  not 
been  touched.  Only  just  enough  dirt  had  been  removed  to  un- 
cover the  mouth  of  the  vault,  closed  by  a slab  three  feet  and  a half 
by  two  feet. 

Two  of  the  coffins  within  the  vault  were  of  Mr.  Stewart’s  infant 
children,  and  two  of  adult  relatives  of  Mrs.  Stewart.  The  burg- 
lars unscrewed  the  cover  of  the  newest  cedar-wood  box,  cut 
through  the  second  receptacle  of  lead,  and  then  forced  the  en- 
closed coffin  of  Mr.  Stewart  by  breaking  the  locks  and  hinges. 
They  tore  off  the  costly  silver  inscription-plate,  and  carried  it  with 
them  ; also  a piece  of  the  velvet  lining  which  they  cut  out  in  the 
shape  of  an  irregular  triangle.  They  left  behind  a new  coal-shovel 
and  a tin  bull’s-eye  lantern. 

It  was  thought  that  the  body  of  Mr.  Stewart  weighed  about  100 
pounds ; and  as  it  was  not  embalmed,  it  was  said  by  physicians 
that  the  flesh  would  liquefy  soon  after  being  exposed  to  the  air. 

Mrs.  Stewart  was  in  her  seventy-eighth  year,  and  quite  ill  and 
feeble. 

On  the  morning  after  the  robbery  the  following  reward  was 
offered  : 

“$25,000  Reward! — Whereas,  in  the  early  morning  of  Nov.  7,  1878,  the 
vault  of  the  late  Alexander  T.  Stewart,  in  St.  Mark’s  Churchyard,  in  this  city, 
was  broken  into,  and  his  remains  removed  from  there,  the  above  reward  is 
offered  by  direction  of  Mrs.  A.  T.  Stewart,  and  will  be  paid  for  the  return  of 
the  body  and  information  which  will  convict  the  parties  who  were  engaged  in 
the  outrage.  Or  a liberal  reward  will  be  paid  for  information  which  will  lead 
to  either  of  these  results. 

“ Henry  Hilton.” 

The  whole  country  was  convulsed.  Newspapers  published  page 
after  page  of  comment,  rumor  and  theory.  A double  guard  was 
set  over  the  tomb  of  Commodore  Vanderbilt  at  New  Dorp,  Staten 
Island.  We  found  out  where  the  shovel  and  lantern  were  sold, 
and  there  the  clew  ended.  We  shadowed  suspicious-looking 
persons  ; investigated  newly-made  graves  ; tracked  old  malefactors 
and  made  them  account  for  their  whereabouts  on  that  eventful 
night. 

The  emotions  excited  by  the  robbery  of  Stewart’s  grave  were 
various,  even  contradictory.  Some,  who  were  neither  thoughtless 
nor  heartless,  were  glad.  A semi-anarchist  newspaper  said, 


230 


EARLY  LIFE  AND  APPEARANCE. 


virtually  : “ There  is  a sort  of  grim  justice  in  it,  and  the  very  irony 
of  greed,  that  this  cruel,  avaricious,  hard-hearted  man,  who  op- 
pressed his  employees,  ruined  his  creditors  and  drove  his  poorer 
competitors  to  bankruptcy  should  now  have  his  flesh  drop  off  and 
his  bones  rattled  in  a thieves’  bag,  while  the  millions  he  earned  are 
enjoyed  by  others.” 

Mr.  Stewart  began  business  in  the  very  humblest  way,  and  was 
his  own  salesman,  book-keeper,  porter  and  errand-boy.  He  lived 
over  his  store,  in  a room  which  served  as  parlor,  bedroom  and 
kitchen.  He  worked  eighteen  hours  a day.  He  possessed  an  in- 
domitable will,  great  industry,  energy,  shrewdness,  and  the  fore- 
sight to  see  this  week  what  would  be  needed  in  trade  the  next. 
He  did  business  for  cash  only,  told  the  blunt  truth  about  his  goods 
and  sold  at  the  cheapest  possible  price.  He  bought  for  cash, 
controlled  high-priced  laces,  silks,  ribbons,  furs  and  gloves,  and 
levied  on  the  world  of  fashion.  He  defied  competition,  and  of 
course  ruined  a good  many  of  his  rivals.  Half  of  his  clerks  were 
broken-down  merchants.  He  did  some  harm  incidentally,  but  he 
offset  it  by  much  good,  for  he  sold  goods  cheaper  than  they  were 
ever  sold  in  this  market  before ; set  a much-needed  example  of 
honesty,  and  laid  the  foundation  of  systematic  and  comprehensive 
methods  which  underlie  the  great  dry-goods  bazaars  of  which  New 
York  City  boasts.  He  died  worth  $30,000,000. 

He  had  no  children  that  lived  more  than  a week.  He  had  few 
if  any  friends.  His  mien  was  forbidding.  He  was  undersized 
and  slim,  with  reddish  hair,  sharp,  avaricious  features,  furrowed 
with  care,  a clear,  cold,  gray  eye  and  an  unfriendly,  suspicious 
voice. 

James  Kealy  was  captain  of  detectives  at  that  time,  and  he  fol- 
lowed several  promising  clews  to  the  end,  but  in  vain.  A lawyer 
named  General  Patrick  H.  Jones,  who  was  at  one  time  postmaster 
of  this  city,  came  to  me  one  day,  and  in  an  excited  tone,  said  : “ A 
man  who  formerly  served  under  me  in  the  army  claims  to  know 
something  about  the  Stewart  body.  I believe  that  with  proper 
encouragement  1 can  get  information  that  will  lead  to  its  recovery.” 

By  “ proper  encouragement  ” he  meant  some  assurance  that 
Hilton  would  negotiate  for  it.  I declined  to  commit  myself,  but  I 
told  him  to  go  ahead,  and  I would  call  on  the  judge,  and  lay  the 
matter  before  him  from  that  point  of  view.  I did  so  ; the  judge 


NOT  “proper  encouragement.”  231 

declared  that  he  would  never  pay  one  cent  for  Mr.  Stewart’s  bones, 
unless  they  came  accompanied  by  the  thieves  in  irons. 

I felt  and  expressed  my  serious  doubts  about  the  correctness  of 
the  information,  but  Jones  was  persistent  and  wanted  to  work  up 
the  case  and  make  arrangements  for  buying  the  body.  He 
brought  a letter  or  two,  which  he  asserted  had  come  from  the 
thieves.  To  complete  the  demonstration  he  walked  into  my  office 
a few  days  later  with  a package  sent  to  him  by  express  from  Bos- 
ton, in  which  was  the  original  coffin-plate  stolen  with  the  remains. 
The  engraver  was  sent  for ; he  came  and  looked  the  plate  over, 
and  at  once  exclaimed : “ That’s  the  very  one.” 

I sent  to  Boston  and  interviewed  the  officers  of  the  express 
office ; but  I got  no  information,  except  that  the  package  had  been 
left  by  a lady  muffled  up  to  her  eyes. 

Hilton  was  still  obdurate.  He  would  have  nothing  to  do  with 
a purchase,  he  said,  unless  it  included  the  villains  themselves.  As 
they  were  the  party  of  the  first  part  in  the  negotiations,  they  were 
not  at  all  likely  to  be  included.  To  complete  their  identification, 
the  robbers  sent  a piece  of  paper  that  fitted  exactly  the  hole  in  the 
velvet  cover  of  the  coffin.  This  piece  of  paper  is  now  in  the  hands 
of  Sexton  Hamill ; the  coffin-plate  is  at  police  headquarters. 

Hilton’s  suspicions  in  regard  to  the  sextons  were  not  only  not 
confirmed,  but  were  substantially  disproved.  The  two  men  were 
of  high  personal  character,  and  the  Rev.  Dr.  Rylance,  pastor  of  St. 
Mark’s,  took  up  their  cause  very  warmly,  giving  Judge  Hilton  a 
piece  of  his  mind,  and  condemning  his  accusation. 

The  authentic  story  of  the  recovery  of  Stewart’s  body  has  not 
yet  been  publicly  told,  but  a gentleman  who  is  in  a position  to 
know  the  exact  facts  recently  rehearsed  the  narrative,  and  for  the 
first  time  it  is  given  here. 

Two  years  had  passed  since  the  body  was  stolen,  and  its  recov- 
ery was  apparently  as  far  off  as  ever.  Judge  Hilton  had  repelled 
the  offers  of  the  criminals  to  negotiate,  and  had  resolutely  opposed 
Mrs.  Stewart’s  desire  to  meet  their  advances. 

“ We  must  never  compound  a felony,”  he  said.  “It  isn’t,  of 
course,  the  money,  but  the  principle.  If  we  were  to  pay  these 
infamous  scoundrels,  what  rich  man’s  or  woman’s  dead  body  would 
hereafter  be  safe  ? We  will  never  pay  a cent  except  for  the  con- 
viction of  the  criminals.” 

The  position  taken  was  morally  correct,  but  a mourning  widow 


23 2 A PACKAGE  from  romaine. 

could  hardly  be  expected  to  regard  the  affair  so  coolly.  Her  af- 
fections were  trampled  under  foot.  This  difference  between  the 
two  seems  to  have  been  known  and  appreciated  by  the  robbers, 
who,  therefore,  incessantly  strove  to  re-open  negotiations  with  Mrs. 
Stewart  directly.  Her  nights  were  almost  sleepless.  She  was 
well  nigh  driven  insane. 

It  was  towards  the  spring  of  1881  when  correspondence  with 
the  robbers  was  resumed. 

No  trace  of  the  body  or  thieves  was  found  until  January  of  the 
following  year,  when  General  Patrick  H.  Jones,  of  No.  150  Nassau 
Street,  called  upon  me  at  police  headquarters.  He  brought  with 
him  a parcel  and  showed  me  the  contents.  They  were  the  silver 
knobs  and  several  of  the  handles  belonging  to  the  coffin  in  which 
the  body  had  been  buried.  He  also  showed  me  some  letters  which 
he  had  received.  They  purported  to  have  been  written  in  Canada, 
and  were  signed  by  “Henry  G.  Romaine.”  With  the  first  letter  a 
hundred-dollar  bill  was  enclosed  as  a retainer  for  him  to  act  as  at- 
torney for  the  return  of  the  body,  upon  the  payment  of  $250,000. 
The  letter  then  went  on  to  say : 

“ The  remains  were  taken  before  twelve  o’clock  on  the  night  of  the  6th  and 
not  at  three  o’clock  on  the  morning  of  the  7th  of  November.  They  were  not 
taken  away  in  a carriage,  but  in  a grocer’s  wagon.  They  were  not  taken  to  any 
house  near  the  grave-yard  but  to  one  near  One  Hundred  and  Sixtieth  Street. 
They  were  then  enclosed  in  a zinc-lined  trunk  and  left  on  an  early  morning 
train.  They  went  to  Plattsburg  and  from  there  to  the  Dominion.  There  they 
were  buried.  Except  that  the  eyes  have  disappeared,  the  flesh  is  as  firm  and 
the  features  as  natural  as  the  day  of  the  interment,  and  can  therefore  be  in- 
stantly identified.  The  enclosed  piece  of  paper  is  exactly  the  size  of  the  piece 
of  velvet  taken  from  the  coffin,  while  the  small  strip  sent  you  will  prove  to  be 
of  the  same  piece  as  that  on  the  coffin.  If  any  additional  proofs  are  required 
the  plate  will  be  sent  you  upon  inserting  the  following  ‘personal  ’ in  the  New 
York  Herald : 

“ ‘ Canada — Send  P. — Counsel.’ 

“ If  you  decline  to  act,  a friend  will  call  for  the  retainer  sent  you.  When  you 
are  satisfied  that  the  relatives  of  Mrs.  Stewart  will  talk  business,  insert  the  fol- 
lowing ‘ personal.’  in  the  New  York  Herald: 

“ ‘ Canada — Will  do  business — Counsel.’ 

“ Then  you  will  hear  from  me  again. 

“ Henry  G.  Romaine.” 

The  package  with  the  articles  mentioned  arrived  a few  hours 
before  the  letter.  It,  with  the  letter,  was  at  once  brought  to  me. 
Three  days  later  the  personal  calling  for  the  coffin-plate  was  pub- 
lished as  directed.  The  following  reply  came : 


PERSONALS  AND  PROPOSITIONS. 


233 


“ Boston,  Mass.,  Jan.  31,  1879. 

“ P.  H.  Jones,  Counsel , New  York  City : 

“ Immediately  on  arrival  of  Herald  containing  ‘ personal,’  I decided  to  express 
the  plate  from  this  city,  and  thus  avoid  the  discovery  and  publicity  which  would 
certainly  follow  the  examination  of  the  package  by  the  Customs  officials  of  the 
Dominion.  Having  satisfied  the  representatives  of  Mrs.  Stewart  of  its  genuine- 
ness, you  will  await  further  instructions,  which  will  be  forwarded  after  the  in- 
sertion of  the  second  personal : 

“ 1 Canada — Will  do  business — Counsel.’ 

“ Henry  G.  Romaine.” 

The  coffin-plate  was  received  from  Boston,  and  brought  at  once 
to  me  at  police  headquarters.  On  the  5th  of  February,  at  the  re- 
quest of  Judge  Hilton,  Mr.  Jones  put  the  second  “ personal  ” in  the 
Herald , and  a couple  of  days  later  Mr.  Jones  wrote  to  Romaine, 
agreeing  to  act  as  counsel,  and  saying  that  Judge  Hilton  was 
anxious  to  recover  the  remains.  The  reply  which  came  from  Bos- 
ton on  the  nth  of  February  set  forth  the  terms  upon  which  the 
body  would  be  restored.  They  were  as  follows  : 

“ 1.  The  amount  to  be  paid  shall  be  $200,000. 

“ 2.  The  body  will  be  delivered  to  yourself  and  Judge  Hilton  within  twenty- 
five  miles  of  the  city  of  Montreal,  and  no  other  person  shall  be  present. 

“3.  The  money  to  be  placed  in  your  hands  or  under  your  control  until 
Judge  Hilton  is  fully  satisfied,  when  you  will  deliver  it  to  my  representative. 

“ 4.  Both  parties  to  maintain  forever  an  unbroken  silence  in  regard  to  the 
transaction. 

“ These  are  the  first,  last,  and  only  terms  which  will  ever  receive  attention. 

u Having  communicated  the  contents  of  this  letter  to  Judge  Hilton  you  will 
await  his  decision.  You  will  inform  me  of  that  by  a ‘personal  ’ in  the  Herald — 

“ ‘ Canada — terms  accepted.’ 

“ Until  this  appears  you  will  not  hear  from  me  again.” 

Judge  Hilton  refused  to  agree  to  the  terms  proposed,  and, 
further,  declined  to  negotiate  through  the  medium  of  “ personals.” 

“ Romaine  ” was  then  written  to,  General  Jones  informing  him 
of  the  condition  of  things.  His  reply  was  soon  received,  ordering 
Mr.  Jones  to  break  off  all  communication  with  Judge  Hilton  and 
open  negotiations  with  Mrs.  Stewart.  No  notice  was  taken  of  this 
request,  but  in  March  Judge  Hilton  made  an  offer  of  $25,000  for 
the  body.  General  Jones  made  the  fact  known  to  “ Romaine,” 
who  “ respectfully  but  firmly  declined.” 

This  closed  the  correspondence. 

But  the  distracted  widow  and  her  relatives,  without  the  consent 
of  Judge  Hilton,  opened  negotiations  on  her  own  account.  The 


234 


REAL  RESULTS — THE  SEQUEL. 


lawyer  was  still  the  medium  of  communication  with  the  ghouls. 
Foiled  in  their  first  attempt  to  secure  money,  they  had  become 
partly  discouraged,  and  now,  instead  of  expecting  $ 200,000 , were 
willing  to  dispose  of  their  dreadful  booty  for  half  that  sum. 

Mrs.  Stewart,  after  a wakeful  night,  gave  orders  to  have  the 
offer  accepted ; but  her  representatives  obtained  a reduction  of 
the  price  to  $20,000,  which  sum  they  agreed  to  pay. 

The  conditions  of  the  delivery  were  made  quite  as  severe  as 
those  which  accompanied  the  negotiations  for  the  return  of 


THE  MEETING. 


Charley  Ross.  The  criminals  declined  to  take  any  chances. 
They  did  not  demand  that  the  money  be  flung  from  a flying  train 
in  a leathern  bag  without  any  guarantee,  but  the  man  with  the 
money  had  to  surrender  himself  absolutely  into  the  hands  of  the 
robbers,  trusting  to  their  “honor.” 

He  was  to  leave  New  York  City  at  ten  o’clock  at  night  alone,  in 
a one-horse  wagon,  and  drive  into  Westchester  County  along  a 
lonely  road  which  the  robbers  indicated  on  a map  which  they 
sent  marked.  “ Sometime  before  morning,”  if  the  man  was  acting 
in  good  faith,  and  was  not  accompanied  or  followed  by  detectives, 
he  would  be  met  and  given  further  directions. 


KNOWN  AT  LAST 


235 


A young  relative  of  Mrs.  Stewart  undertook  the  hazardous  er- 
rand, and  drove  out  into  the  country.  Two  or  three  times  during 
the  night  he  became  certain  that  he  was  closely  watched,  but  it 
was  three  o’clock  when  a masked  horseman  rode  up,  gave  the 
signal  agreed  on,  and  turned  the  buggy  up  a lonely  lane.  The 
strange  visitor  here  left  him,  directing  him  to  drive  on.  At  the 
end  of  another  mile  he  became  aware  that  another  wagon  was 
blocking  the  way.  He  paused.  A masked  man  promptly  ap- 
peared, and  brought  forward  a bag  to  his  buggy,  saying,  “ Here 
’tis  ; where’s  the  money  ? ” 

“ Where  is  the  proof  of  identity  ? ” asked  the  messenger,  as  the 
bag  containing  the  mortal  remains  of  A.  T.  Stewart  was  lifted 
into  the  buggy. 

“ Here  ! ” said  the  other,  holding  up  an  irregular  bit  of  velvet, 
and  opening  a bull’s-eye  lantern  upon  it  with  a click.  The  piece 
was  compared  with  a bit  of  paper  of  the  same  shape  which  the 
New  Yorker  had  brought  with  him  to  this  lonely  spot. 

“ Come,  hurry  up  ! ” was  the  command. 

The  messenger  obeyed  by  producing  the  money,  and  the  rob- 
bers retired  a few  feet  and  counted  it  by  the  light  of  their  lantern. 

Then  they  moved  off  with  their  vehicle,  and  the  messenger  of 
Mrs.  Stewart  drove  back  the  way  he  had  come,  glad  to  escape 
from  such  company. 

The  next  night  a freight  car  went  out  to  Garden  City  contain- 
ing nothing  except  a trunk,  and  on  it  sat  the  man  who  had  spent 
the  previous  night  in  the  loneliest  part  of  Westchester  County. 
An  empty  coffin  had  already  been  deposited  in  the  Cathedral,  and 
at  the  dead  of  night  two  men  transferred  the  bones  to  it  from  the 
trunk.  They  then  placed  the  coffin  in  an  inaccessible  vault  be- 
neath the  dome.  And  now,  they  say,  if  any  fiend  should  ever 
again  touch,  unbidden,  the  vault  which  holds  the  bones  of  the 
merchant-millionaire,  the  touch  would  release  a hidden  spring 
which  would  shake  the  chime  of  clustered  bells  in  the  tower,  and 
send  an  instant  alarm  throughout  the  sleeping  village. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


BANK  BURGLARIES. — KINGS  AMONG  THIEVES. — “ FOUR-FINGERED 
JACK.” — THE  SATCHEL  IN  THE  HALL. — MAKING  THE  CASHIER 

UNLOCK  A BANK  VAULT. “ RED  ” LEARY’S  BRAVADO. “ IF  THE 

FUNDS  HAVE  GOT  TO  GO,  I WILL  GO  WITH  THEM.” A HEROIC 

CASHIER. A TERRIBLE  DISCOVERY. UNJUST  SUSPICIONS. THE 

HOLE  UNDER  THE  PRESIDENT’S  CHAIR. THE  SCHEME  THAT 

WAS  HATCHED  IN  A BROADWAY  BILLIARD  PARLOR. — SMOUL- 
DERING BAGS  OF  GOLD. THE  LITTLE  BLACK  TRUNK  ON  ELIZ- 

ABETH STREET. — BARON  SHINDELL. — BUGGINS,  THE  BANK  MES- 
SENGER. 

The  successful  bank  robber  is  a king  among  thieves,  and  so  far 
as  the  skill  and  cunning  which  he  exercises  are  concerned,  he 
undoubtedly  earns  his  reputation.  As  a rule,  it  is  the  most  intelli- 
gent members  of  the  criminal  class  who  drift  into  this  branch  of 
wickedness.  Experience  has  demonstrated  that  the  expert  bank 
burglar  is  possessed  of  more  than  ordinary  mechanical  skill,  and 
an  amount  of  energy  and  patience  that  is  phenomenal.  Thousands 
of  dollars  are  expended  in  purchasing  tools,  and  in  experimenting 
with  new  mechanical  contrivances.  They  are  enthusiastic  in 
learning  every  detail  of  their  occupation.  Thus  it  is  that  every 
succeeding  year  adds  to  the  knowledge  of  the  criminal,  and  makes 
absolute  protection  against  detection  seem  more  possible. 

But  the  most  notorious  bank  burglars,  1-ike  famous  men  of  action, 
are  known  by  their  achievements  rather  than  by  their  reputation 
among  their  fellows.  To  the  burglar  the  sacking  of  a bank  is  as 
the  sacking  of  a town  to  a great  warrior ; if  he  accomplishes  his 
object  without  suffering  a maximum  of  loss  he  is  for  the  time  peer- 
less and  much  sought  after  by  the  people — or  their  representative, 
the  district  attorney. 

There  was  some  very  curious  incidents  in  connection  with  the 
robbery  of  the  Hatters’  Bank  of  Bethel,  Conn.  Some  time  before 
the  robbery,  two  excellent  officers  on  the  detective  force — John 
McCord  and  W.  G.  Elder — reported  to  me  one  day  that  they  had 

236 


237 


“ FOUR-FINGERED  JACK.” 

seen  young  Jack  Wright,  commonly  known  as  “ Four-fingered  Jack,” 
because  he  had  lost  a thumb.  Wright  was  a noted  bank  robber, 
and  McCord  and  Elder,  who  worked  together,  followed  him  to 
see  what  he  was  about  to  do.  They  informed  me  that  the  rascal 
had  entered  a number  of  safe-stores,  and  had  carefully  examined 
the  various  styles  and  makes.  Afterward  he  had  gone  into  a 
tenement  house  on  Charles  Street. 

“We  believe,  Captain,”  said  Elder,  “that  Jack  is  up  to  some 
kind  of  a job.  We  are  afraid,  too,  that  we  are  known  to  him,  and 
if  he  should  see  us  watching  we  should  lose  him.  However,  he 
doesn’t  know  you;  you  might  arrest  him.” 

“ That  will  hardly  do,”  I replied.  “ I know  the  fellow  well  by 
reputation.  We  had  better  shadow  him  further.  If  he  has  any 
job  put  up,  we  surely  ought  to  be  able  to  find  it  out.  To  arrest 
him  now,  with  no  proof  against  him,  would  be  useless.  You  take 
me  with  you,  and  we’ll  watch  him.” 

We  secreted  ourselves  in  a coal  office  at  Charles  and  Hudson 
streets,  and  watched  Jack’s  house.  In  a short  time  he  came  out, 
and  I had  a good  view  of  him.  “ Four-fingered  Jack  ” was  a fine- 
looking  man,  tall  and  well  built,  and  tastefully  dressed.  Leaving 
Elder  and  McCord  to  watch  the  house,  I set  out  to  follow  the 
burglar.  He  was  evidently  bent  upon  a thorough  and  practical 
study  of  safes,  for  he  went  into  nearly  every  establishment  where 
they  were  sold.  That  he  did  not  want  to  buy  a safe  was  evident 
enough  to  me. 

After  an  extended  tour  around  the  city,  “Four-fingered  Jack” 
got  aboard  a Fourth  Avenue  car.  I did  also,  but  he  did  not  seem 
to  recognize  me.  He  rode  as  far  as  the  terminus  of  the  line,  then 
at  Twenty-seventh  Street,  where  the  New  Haven  depot  stood,  on  the 
site  of  the  building  now  known  as  the  Madison  Square  Garden. 
Here  he  loitered  for  a short  time  and  was  finally  joined  by  a light- 
corn  plexioned  man.  The  two  exchanged  a few  words,  and  then, 
as  they  went  aboard  the  New  Haven  train,  I left  them.  If  they 
had  a job  in  hand  it  would  be  at  some  point  east  of  New  York,  I 
thought. 

I returned  immediately  to  McCord  and  Elder,  who  had  been 
watching  Wright’s  house  on  Charles  Street.  This  they  continued 
to  do  for  some  time.  Eventually,  they  found  that  their  man  had 
returned  and  was  about  to  remove  to  some  other  part  of  the  city. 
The  difficulty  now  was  to  track  him  to  his  new  lodgings.  After 


238 


THE  HATTERS’  BANK. 


some  trouble  the  new  quarters  were  discovered  in  the  suburbs  of 
the  city,  and  Jack  and  his  partner  kept  coming  and  going,  always 
leaving  town  via  the  New  Haven  Railroad.  On  his  last  excursion 
he  was  absent  three  days — somewhat  longer  than  usual.  This 
looked  suspicious.  I might  have  sent  men  to  follow  him  on  the 
railroad,  but  had  this  been  attempted,  “Four-fingered  Jack” 
would  have  “ tumbled  ” at  once  to  the  fact  that  he  was  being 
shadowed.  He  was  a clever  rascal,  and  doubtless  had  his  own 
spies  about.  Then,  again,  if  the  job  were  in  a country  town,  the 
presence  of  any  strangers  in  the  place  would  have  at  once  been 
sufficient  to  put  Jack  on  the  alert.  On  the  fourth  day  of  his 
absence  from  New  York  the  news  came  to  me  of  the  robbery  of 
$100,000  from  the  Hatters’  Bank,  of  Bethel,  Conn.  The  moment 
I heard  of  it  I suspected  “Four-fingered  Jack.” 

His  house  in  the  suburbs  was  still  under  surveillance,  and  when 
he  returned  we  immediately  arrested  him,  together  with  another 
well-known  bank  burglar  called  “ Peppermint  Joe.”  The  house 
was  carefully  searched,  but,  to  my  discomfiture,  none  of  the  stolen 
money  was  found.  I telegraphed  to  the  officers  of  the  bank  at 
Bethel  to  come  on  to  New  York,  and  they  did. 

When  our  prisoners  were  brought  before  the  bank  officers, 
“Four-fingered  Jack”  and  “ Peppermint  Joe”  were  strangers  to 
them.  We  sent  to  Bethel  and  brought  some  of  the  townspeople 
to  look  at  the  men,  but  they  did  not  recognize  them.  In  fact,  no 
suspicious  characters  had  been  seen  in  Bethel.  As  usual  under 
such  circumstances,  the  robbery  had  been  committed  on  Saturday 
night,  and  on  Sunday  the  safe  had  been  broken  into.  There  had 
been  some  clever  burrowing,  the  heavy  floor-stones  broken,  the 
bolt  of  the  lock  blocked  with  wood  and  it  was  Monday  afternoon 
before  the  bank  officers  could  open  the  vault,  and  then  the  robbery 
was  discovered.  Of  the  $100,000  stolen,  $80,000  were  in  the 
Hatters’  Bank  notes,  and  the  rest  in  general  currency.  The  bills 
of  the  Hatters’  Bank  were  of  the  denomination  of  $50  and  $100. 

Bethel  being  a small  manufacturing  town,  large  bank-bills  were 
not  much  in  use.  The  Hatters’  Bank  sent  to  all  the  other 
moneyed  institutions  in  the  country  an  account  of  the  robbery, 
with  a description  of  the  notes.  It  was  impossible  to  hold  the 
men.  I was  positive  that  “Four-fingered  Jack”  was  one  of  the 
robbers,  but  there  was  no  evidence  against  him,  and  the  magis- 
trate was  forced  to  release  him  and  his  “ mate.” 


“that’s  very  strange.’ 


239 


As  Jack  was  leaving  the  court-room  a free  man  1 said  to  him, 
“ You  have  got  clear  now,  but  those  bills  of  the  Bethel  Bank  will 
be  of  no  avail  to  you.  They  will  lead  to  your  detection.” 

I regret  to  say  that  my  prophecy  did  not  come  true,  as  far  as 
the  detection  of  these  robbers  went,  but  something  quite  extraor- 
dinary in  its  way  did  happen. 

I was  living  then  with  a friend,  named  O’Donnel.  About  a 
week  after  the  dismissal  of  “Four-fingered  Jack,”  on  returning 
to  my  house  one  evening,  Mr.  O’Donnel  said  to  me : 

“Captain  Walling,  I suppose  some  of  your  people  are  coming 
home  from  the  country.” 

“Not  at  all,”  I replied. 

“O,  yes,  they  are,”  was  his  answer,  “for  some  of  them  have 
sent  you  a travelling-satchel.” 

“ How  is  that  ? ” I inquired. 

“Just  before  you  came  in  the  door-bell  rang.  The  servant  girl 
answered  it,  and  a man  put  a travelling-bag  in  her  hand,  saying, 

‘ This  is  for  Captain  Walling.’  ” 

“That’s  very  strange,”  I said. 

O’Donnel  went  for  the  article,  which  was  a common-looking 
black  bag.  He  put  it  on  a chair  in  the  hallway,  and  lit  a candle 
so  that  I might  better  examine  it. 

“ I never  saw  it  before,”  I said,  looking  it  over.  Just  then 
there  had  been  a scare  about  infernal  machines  and  Mr.  O’Don- 
nel said,  “Watch  out,  Captain,  maybe  you  and  I will  be  blown  sky- 
high.” 

“Nonsense,”  I said.  “Nobody  is  going  to  blow  me  up.” 
Then  I felt  of  the  bag,  and  it  seemed  to  have  a parcel  in  it.  Hav- 
ing no  key,  I opened  it  with  a knife.  There  was  a bundle  about 
eight  inches  wide  and  two  feet  long  wrapped  up  in  coarse  straw 
paper.  What  could  it  be  ? I had  the  wrapper  off  in  a trice,  and  when 
I saw  the  contents  I was  excited  perhaps  more  than  I have  been 
at  any  other  time  in  my  life,  for  there  were  the  bills  of  the  Hat- 
ters’ Bank,  of  Bethel ! I sent  off  in  post-haste  for  McCord  and 
Elder.  They  could  hardly  believe  their  eyes  when  they  saw  what 
was  in  the  satchel.  They  sat  down  and  we  counted  the  bills. 
We  made  the  bundle  out  to  . contain  exactly  $60,025.  I lost  no 
time  in  telegraphing  the  Bank  of  Bethel,  and  made  a special  de- 
posit of  the  money  in  the  Nassau  Bank.  The  president  of  the 
bank  came  at  once  to  the  city,  claimed  the  property  and  carried 


BANK  BURGLARS'  OUTFIT. 


THIEVES  AND  THIEVES. 


241 


it  back  to  Bethel.  Still  there  was  about  $40,000  of  the  amount 
stolen  which  was  unaccounted-  for.  Some  years  afterward,  the 
city  marshal  of  Buffalo,  Mr.  Tyler,  got  hold  of  $20,000  more  of 
the  bills,  but  of  the  remaining  $20,000  nothing  was  ever  heard. 
The  robbers  were  never  arrested.  Then,  as  now,  I was  perfectly 
convinced  that  “Four-fingered  Jack”  was  the  burglar.  I do  not 
regard  the  restitution  of  the  $60,025  as  entitling  Four-fingered 
Jack  to  the  least  credit.  There  is  no  magnanimity  about  thieves. 
Probably  his  continued  possession  of  these  notes  might  have  been 
a temptation  to  the  rest  of  the  gang,  and  the  circulation  of  the 
notes  might  finally  have  led  to  his  re-arrest  and  punishment. 

After  this  exploit,  “Four-fingered  Jack”  disappeared  from 
sight  forever.  I don’t  know  what  became  of  him.  The  public 
often  hears  of  an  individual  who  figures  during  a very  long  career 
of  crime.  This  I am  inclined  to  think  a rather  exceptional  con- 
dition of  things,  because  the  life  of  a thief,  robber  or  burglar  is 
not  usually  a long  one.  Take  a hundred  of  the  criminal  class, 
and  the  larger  proportion  of  them  are  dissipated.  Drink  kills 
them.  Theirs  is  a calling  that  carries  with  it  constant  and  tre- 
mendous risks.  It  is  sometimes  difficult  to  follow  a thief  by  his 
soubriquet.  A criminal  may  call  himself,  as  in  this  instance, 
“Four-fingered  Jack,”  and  at  once  he  has  imitators.  There  will 
probably  spring  up  in  various  parts  of  the  country  a large  crop  of 
Four-fingered  Jacks.  There  have  been  Jack  Shepards  in  and 
out  of  prison  walls  ever  since  the  time  of  Jonathan  Wild.  I do 
not  think  that  criminals  are  over  fond  of  these  catch  names. 
There  are  of  course  many  aliases,  but  those  oftenest  adopted  or 
applied  are  familiar  through  history  or  fiction.  I have  more  than 
once  startled  a criminal  who  sported  a long  list  of  aliases  by 
saluting  him  with  the  name  given  him  by  his  father  and  mother. 
An  officer  of  the  police,  in  constant  intercourse  with  the  criminal 
class,  may  have  his  sympathies  blunted,  but  I have  sometimes  felt 
sorry  for  even  a hardened  rascal  when  his  own  true  name  was 
thrown  back  at  him.  It  was  as  if  all  his  disguises  had  been  mys- 
teriously stripped  off,  and  he  was  suddenly  brought  face  to  face 
with  the  recollections  of  his  innocent  boyhood. 

The  subject  of  the  Northampton  Bank  robbery,  on  January  27, 
1876,  was  on  everybody’s  tongue  for  several  years  after  it  oc- 
curred. It  was  an  interesting  robbery  by  reason  of  the  large 
amount  stolen,  the  notorious  thieves  who  were  believed  to  be  im- 
16 


242 


NORTHAMPTON  BANK. 


plicated,  the  boldness  of  their  operations  and  their  escapes  after 
capture. 

The  thieves  were  seven : “ Shang  ” Draper,  “ Red  ” Leary, 
“Billy”  Connor,  James  Burns,  George  Howard  (or  George  Leo- 
nidas Leslie),  Thomas  Dunlap  and  William  Scott.  There  is  some 
doubt,  however,  whether  Howard  was  actually  concerned  in  the 
work  of  the  burglary  or  not.  The  criminals  used  considerable 
strategy  in  their  operations.  They  wanted  to  rob  a bank,  but 
were  not  particular  as  to  which  one.  It  was  necessary  first  to  find 
out  where  there  was  a bank  whose  safes  and  vaults  were  easily 
opened.  So  they  made  the  acquaintance  of  William  D.  Edson, 
an  expert  in  locks  and  safes,  who  was  a travelling  agent  for  Her- 
ring & Co.  Edson  was  not  a man  with  very  stern  moral  convic- 
tions. He  smiled  on  his  new  acquaintances  and  soon  became 
confidential.  The  burglars’  plot  was  finally  laid  before  him,  and 
he  was  promised  a generous  share  in  the  proceeds  if  the  scheme 
was  successful.  They  wanted  him  to  point  out  a weak  bank,  from 
a burglar’s  point  of  view,  and  this  he  did,  directing  their  attention 
to  that  at  Northampton.  With  this  much  learned,  the  rest  of  the 
task  was  not  difficult  to  thieves  of  such  broad  experiences. 
Northampton  was  a small  town,  and  boldness,  the  burglars 
thought,  would  most  successfully  accomplish  their  designs.  Cer- 
tainly it  did. 

On  the  night  of  January  27,  1876,  having  reached  the  town  and 
assembled  at  their  rendezvous,  they  put  on  masks  and  proceeded 
at  once  to  the  residence  of  the  cashier,  Mr.  Whittlesy.  They 
aroused  him  from  slumber,  and  after  binding  his  wife,  children  and 
servants,  made  him  march  under  the  cover  of  their  pistols  to  the 
bank.  There  they  compelled  him,  by  threats  of  instant  death,  to 
unlock  the  vaults  and  surrender  the  contents.  Under  such  cir- 
cumstances the  boldest  cashier  is  apt  to  lose  courage,  and  Mr. 
Whittlesy  was  no  exception.  He  meekly  followed  his  masked 
captors  and  surrendered  all  they  asked  for.  They  succeeded  in 
getting  $1,500,000  in  money  and  negotiable  securities.  But  even 
when  the  booty  was  in  their  possession  there  was  no  feverish  haste 
to  get  away.  They  coolly  walked  back  with  the  cashier  to  his 
house,  gagged  him  and  made  secure  the  bonds  of  his  family,  and 
then  departed. 

So  large  a sum  had  been  stolen  from  the  bank  in  the  form  of 
securities,  upon  which  the  burglars  could  not  readily  realize,  that 


ARRESTED  AND  SENTENCED. 


243 


the  bank  officers  tried  to  recover  their  lost  property  before  at- 
tempting to  secure  the  conviction  of  the  thieves.  This  plan  was 
followed  by  negotiations  which  lasted  a year  and  then  brought 
no  satisfactory  result.  Detectives  advised  that  as  many  of  the 
thieves  as  could  be  caught  should  be  arrested,  and  acting  upon 
this  advice,  the  bank  officers  soon  had  the  satisfaction  of  knowing 
that  Edson,  the  travelling  agent  who  had  conspired  with  the 
thieves,  was  under  arrest. 

Edson  was  piqued  at  not  getting  as  much  money  from  the  robbery 
as  he  had  been  promised,  and  it  did  not  require  much  urging  to 
get  him  to  turn  State’s  evidence.  The  names  of  the  burglars  were 
disclosed,  and  soon  afterward  Scott  and  Dunlap  were  arrested  in 
Philadelphia,  just  as  they  were  about  to  take  a train  southward, 
where  they  intended  to  commit  another  bank  burglary.  They 
were  taken  to  Northampton,  and  tried,  not  on  the  charge  of  rob- 
bing the  bank,  but  on  that  of  entering  the  cashier’s  house  and 
threatening  the  lives  of  the  inmates.  Conviction  on  the  former 
charge  would  give  the  culprits  only  twenty  years’  sentence,  while 
on  the  latter  charge  a life-sentence  was  possible.  The  trial  on 
this  charge  proved  a failure,  and  the  second  was  taken  up.  Scott 
and  Dunlap  were  found  guilty  and  were  sentenced  to  twenty  years’ 
imprisonment  in  the  Massachusetts  State  prison,  at  Charlestown. 
Scott  died  in  captivity. 

Meanwhile,  the  New  York  detectives  were  continuing  their 
search  for  the  remainder  of  the  gang.  “Shang”  Draper  was 
taken  in  1877,  and  soon  afterwards  “ Billy  ” Connors  fell  into  the 
clutches  of  the  law.  He  was  confined  in  Ludlow  Street  Jail,  but 
while  his  extradition  papers  were  preparing  he  secured  an  im- 
pression of  the  key  of  the  jail,  and  one  day,  at  meal  time,  he  un- 
locked the  iron  door  and  walked  out.  It  was  on  February  4,  1881, 
that  he  was  re-captured  in  Philadelphia  as  he  was  leaving  a dram 
shop.  He  was  taken  to  Northampton  for  trial. 

Leary  had  been  arrested  about  the  same  time  that  Connors  was 
first  arrested,  and  was  also  lodged  in  Ludlow  Street  Jail.  The  des- 
perate character  of  these  thieves  is  again  illustrated  when  it  is 
told  that  Leary  also  broke  jail  in  1879.  Friends  of  his  had  rented 
a brick  house  adjoining  the  jail,  and  dug  through  the  walls  to  a 
closet,  making  an  excavation  large  enough  for  Leary  to  crawl 
through.  He  was  re-arrested  in  Brooklyn  on  the  same  night  that 
Connors  was  re-taken  in  Philadelphia.  Of  the  other  burglars,  one 


244 


A HEROIC  CASHIER. 


was  already  serving  a term  in  Sing  Sing  before  it  was  known  that 
he  was  engaged  in  the  Northampton  bank  robbery  ; Howard,  if  he 
was  really  implicated,  was  killed,  after  a remarkable  career,  in 
Yonkers,  and  Edson,  of  course,  got  free  by  turning  State’s  evidence. 
The  bank  recovered  all  its  property  save  $100,000  in  securities, 
$40,000  in  Government  bonds  and  $12,000  in  cash. 

The  anniversary  of  Washington’s  birthday  in  1878  was  a raw, 
cold  day  in  Dexter,  Maine.  Since  it  was  a holiday,  most  of  the 
villagers  were  enjoying  themselves  in  various  ways  suited  to  their 
tastes.  On  the  second  floor  of  what  was  known  as  the  Masonic 
Building,  however,  was  one  citizen  who  was  not  spending  the  day 
in  idleness.  His  name  was  J.  W.  Barron.  He  was  the  cashier  of 
the  Dexter  Savings  Bank,  which  had  offices  there.  He  had  left 
his  wife  in  the  morning,  and  told  her  that  he  would  return  about 
3 o’clock — he  wanted  to  go  to  the  bank  “ to  do  a little  figuring.” 

There  he  sat  in  the  offices  of  the  bank  on  that  chill  afternoon, 
and  turned  the  pages  of  his  books  or  added  up  a column  of  fig- 
ures. The  fire  in  the  grate  became  low,  and  the  cashier  shivered 
now  and  then  as  he  went  on  with  his  work.  Finally  the  room  be- 
came too  cold  for  him  to  endure  the  temperature  any  longer,  so  he 
arose  from  his  desk  and  walked  down  to  the  coal  room  to  bring 
up  some  more  fuel.  Little  did  James  Barron  suspect  that  several 
pairs  of  eyes  were  watching  every  step  he  took.  Unconscious  of 
coming  doom  he  stooped  over  and  filled  the  iron  scuttle.  The  rat- 
tling of  the  coal  drowned  all  other  noises.  He  arose  to  lift  his 
burden,  and  then  fell,  struck  by  a sudden  and  unlooked-for  blow. 
Three  men  were  upon  him  in  an  instant,  three  men  whom  that  old 
cashier  recognized  at  once  as  desperate  criminals.  He  saw  deter- 
mination and  brutality  written  in  their  faces.  He  knew  at  once 
their  intentions. 

But  Cashier  Barron  was  no  coward.  A short  time  before  he 
had  read  of  the  Northampton  Bank  robbery,  how  the  burglars 
had  bound  and  gagged  the  cashier  and  made  him  divulge  the  com- 
bination of  the  safes,  and  Mr.  Barron  then  had  said  to  his  wife  : 
“ If  the  bank  funds  have  got  to  go  that  way,  I prefer  to  go  with 
them.”  And  down  in  that  dimly-lighted  and  dusty  coal  room,  with 
three  of  the  most  desperate  bank  burglars  in  the  country  upon 
him,  the  gray-haired  cashier  did  not  flinch.  Again  the  words  he 
had  used  to  his  wife  came  back  to  him,  and  he  murmured  to  him- 
self : “ If  the  funds  have  got  to  go,  I will  go  with  them.” 


THE  DEXTER  SAVINGS  BANK. 


245 


So  he  struggled,  and  there  was  a desperate  fight  in  the  coal  room, 
in  which  the  brave  old  man’s  head  was  cut  and  his  face  bruised. 
His  eye-glasses  were  afterwards  found  amid  the  coal,  broken,  and 
a set  of  false  teeth  glistened  brightly  against  the  black  diamonds. 

But  three  men  can  easily  overpower  one.  Mr.  Barron  struggled 
until  his  strength  was  exhausted,  and  then  the  ruffians  tied  his 
wrists  behind  him  and  fastened  them  with  hand-cuffs.  After  gag- 
ging him  so  that  he  could  not  scream  for  help  they  lead  him  to 
the  bank  vault  and  tried  to  force  out  of  him  the  secret  of  the  com- 
bination. But  although  the  old  man’s  strength  was  gone  his  spirit 
was  not  bowed.  That  firm  determination  with  which  he  said,  “ If 
the  funds  have  got  to  go  I prefer  to  go  with  them,”  stood  by  him 
still.  He  absolutely  refused  to  divulge  the  combination.  How 
this  enraged  the  burglars  ! They  became  perfect  fiends.  They 
beat  the  cashier,  slashed  him  with  knives,  assaulted  him  with  all 
sorts  of  indignities,  and  in  short  tried  to  murder  him  by  slow  tor- 
ture. But  all  was  in  vain  ; their  victim  was  a martyr.  The 
thieves,  fearing  discovery,  for  it  was  broad  daylight,  abandoned 
their  task  and  fled.  They  secured  only  about  $100. 

In  the  mean  while  there  was  growing  anxiety  in  the  home  of 
Cashier  Barron.  When  3 o’clock  came  around  and  her  husband 
had  not  returned,  Mrs.  Barron  became  fearful  lest  something  had 
happened  to  him.  She  smothered  her  fears,  however,  and  went 
on  with  her  household  duties.  Then  the  shades  of  that  February 
day  began  to  fall.  The  sun  shone  out  clear  for  a moment  just 
above  the  western  horizon,  and  then  fell  behind  the  hill.  The  air 
grew  chillier  with  the  approach  of  dusk.  Mrs.  Barron  left  her 
comfortable  seat  by  the  grate  fire,  and  walked  to  the  window  to 
ascertain  if  she  could  see  her  absent  husband.  There  was  no 
sign  of  him.  She  walked  into  the  kitchen,  and  there  saw  a hired 
man,  named  Bement,  to  whom  she  expressed  her  fear  that  Mr. 
Barron  had  met  with  an  accident.  Bement  offered  to  go  down  to 
the  bank  and  find  out  if  his  employer  had  been  detained  there. 

As  the  hired  man  approached  the  Masonic  Building  and  looked 
up  into  the  second  story,  where  the  bank  offices  were,  he  saw  no 
light  in  the  window.  He  started  to  go  up  the  steps,  when  he  met 
Cashier  Curtis,  of  the  Dexter  National  Bank,  which  was  in  the 
same  building,  and  asked  him  if  he  had  seen  anything  of  Mr.  Bar- 
ron. Mr.  Curtis  replied  that  he  had  not,  and  together  with  Be- 
ment walked  to  the  door  of  the  building.  They  listened  and  heard 


246  A SICKENING  SIGHT. 

a faint  groan.  This  was  enough.  They  tried  to  burst  open  the 
door,  but  it  withstood  their  efforts.  There  was  another  entrance, 
and  through  this  they  climbed  and  made  their  way  to  the  bank 
offices.  The  door  by  which  entrance  was  had  was  open  a mere 
crack.  They  pushed  against  it,  but  could  not  open  it  sufficiently 
to  get  through.  The  groans  became  more  audible  and  horrible. 
Something  had  to  be  done.  They  found  a slender  lad,  who  climbed 
up  over  the  door  and  into  the  room.  It  was  dark,  but  by  feeling 
around  he  discovered  that  it  was  a man’s  body  which  blocked  the 
door.  By  much  tugging  and  straining  he  managed  to  pull  the 
body  along  so  as  to  allow  the  door  to  open  more  widely.  Then 
a Captain  Weed,  who  had  been  attracted  by  the  noise  as  he  was 
passing,  squeezed  through  the  aperture.  Bement,  the  hired  man, 
handed  him  his  lantern.  The  captain  turned  the  rays  full  on 
the  creature  behind  the  door,  and  a cry  of  anguish  broke  from 
his  lips.  It  was  a sickening  sight  that  met  his  searching  look.  By 
the  lantern’s  light  he  saw  Mr.  Barron  wedged  in  between  the 
vault  and  the  door — his  face  livid,  his  eyes  set,  his  jaws  stretched 
apart  by  a blood-soaked  gag,  a rope  around  his  neck,  his  hands 
fastened  behind  him  with  hand-cuffs,  and  the  man  himself  dying. 

Mr.  Barron  was  at  once  removed  to  another  part  of  the  building, 
and  his  wife  was  summoned.  At  midnight  he  died. 

Further  examination  of  the  premises  revealed  the  false  teeth, 
the  broken  eye-glasses,  a lead  pencil  and  the  coal-hod,  half  tipped 
over.  There  were,  however,  no  clews  to  the  burglars.  The  little 
town  was  of  course  very  much  excited.  Stories  of  strange  men 
who  had  been  seen  in  the  village ' multiplied.  Several  sleighloads 
of  suspicious-looking  men  had  been  seen  driving  across  the  coun- 
try, but  whether  they  included  the  murderers  of  the  old  cashier  was 
never  ascertained.  Detectives  from  Boston  and  Portland  were  em- 
ployed to  work  up  the  case.  It  was  a huge  task.  A rumor  got 
abroad  that  Barron  had  not  been  murdered,  but  had  committed 
suicide  after  having  misappropriated  the  funds  of  the  bank. 
His  accounts  were  examined,  and  for  a time  his  widow  lived  con- 
fronting the  unjust  suspicions.  But  the  expert  accountants  soon 
discovered  that  Barron,  instead  of  being  a thief,  was  a hero.  Fi- 
nally suspicion  centred  on  a well-known  gang  of  bank  burglars, 
among  whom  were  “ Worcester  Sam,”  “ Johnny  ” Dobbs,  “ Jimmy  ” 
Hope,  “ Abe  ” Coakley  and  George  Leonidas  Leslie,  alias  George 
Howard.  The  Boston  detectives  called  on  the  police  of  New 


VINDICATED. 


247 


York  for  assistance,  and  Richard  King  and  George  Dilks  of  the 
Central  Office  were  put  upon  the  case.  They  watched  Coakley’s 
house  attentively,  and  after  some  further  investigation  were  so 
convinced  that  the  above-named  rascals  were  implicated  in  the 
murder  that  they  felt  ready  to  make  arrests.  The  matter  was 
finally  allowed  to  drop  because  of  insufficient  evidence,  and 
the  murderers  of  Cashier  Barron  were  never  brought  to  justice. 

The  peculiar  circumstances  surrounding  the  robbery  of  the 
Ocean  National  Bank,  at  Fulton  and  Greenwich  streets,  New 
York,  on  June  27,  1869,  gives  the  burglary  another  interest  aside 
from  that  which  springs  from  the  cleverness  of  the  thieves’  work. 
There  was  stolen  altogether  in  money  and  securities  $768,879.74, 
but  there  was  left  in  the  bank  vaults,  or  scattered  outside  on  the 
floor,  $1,806,958. 

The  burglary  occurred  between  Saturday  night  and  Monday 
morning.  The  news  came  to  headquarters  on  Monday,  and 
detectives  Elder,  Kelso  and  Farley  were  dispatched  at  once 
to  the  building.  They  arrived  at  the  bank  shortly  after  nine 
o’clock,  and  found  a very  confused  state  of  things.  Outside 
the  bank  the  streets  were  crowded  with  persons  who  had  learned 
the  fact  of  the  robbery,  and  it  required  the  efforts  of  several 
policemen  to  keep  the  throng  from  pushing  through  the  doors. 
Within,  the  confusion  was  of  a different  sort,  and  greater.  Of  the 
persons  connected  *with  the  bank  there  had  already  arrived  the 
colored  janitor,  Peter  Grant;  W.  H.  Dunn,  a messenger;  Joseph 
D.  Martin,  the  porter;  Edward  Dunn,  another  messenger;  Mr. 
Lyon,  the  receiving  teller;  Mr.  Clark,  the  paying  teller;  C.  S. 
Stevenson,  the  cashier;  Mr.  Morgan,  a director,  and  Theodore 
M.  Davis,  an  attorney  of  the  bank.  Sergeant  Phillips,  of  the 
Twenty-seventh  Precinct,  had  been  notified  and  was  in  command. 

The  bank  offices  included  the  large  business  room,  the  presi- 
dent’s private  room,  and  the  vault.  Around  the  latter  was  as- 
sembled a very  excited  and  nervous  group.  The  outer  door  of 
the  vault  was  open,  and  smoke  issued  from  the  aperture.  The 
floor  was  covered  with  papers,  books  and  old  clothing  left  by  the 
burglars,  all  thoroughly  soaked  with  water.  Bags  holding  nickel 
coin  were  smouldering.  The  detectives  examined  the  outer  vault 
door.  It  showed  no  sign  of  having  been  violently  tampered  with. 
The  lock  worked  as  usual. 

The  vault  was  in  three  compartments,  with  a door  to  each. 


INTERIOR  OF  BANK  VAULT. 

keys  to  this  hung  on  the  door,  so  that  having  forced  the  main 
door  it  had  only  been  necessary  for  the  burglars  to  use  the  keys 
which  they  found.  The  third  door,  or  that  leading  to  the  inner 
vault,  was  of  inch-and-a-quarter  iron,  and  had  a different  lock 
from  either  of  the  others,  a combination  Butterworth,  No.  3.  In 
this  inner  vault  were  two  safes,  supposed  to  be  burglar  proof, 
and  holding  the  cash  and  securities  of  the  bank. 


24S  THE  OCEAN  BANK. 

The  outside  wall  was  built  of  large  blocks  of  granite,  which  were 
lined  on  either  side  by  heavy  plates  of  boiler  iron.  The  first  door, 
which  so  surprised  the  detectives,  was  of  iron,  very  strongly  put 
together,  and  held  tight  by  bolts  and  a combination  lock.  The 
second  was  also  of  iron,  and  was  secured  by  a Yale  lock.  The 


• SCATTERED  WEALTH. 


249 


Through  all  this  iron  and  stone  the  burglars  had  worked  their 
way.  The  evidences  of  their  toil  and  its  results  were  everywhere 
visible.  In  some  mysterious  way  they  had  unlocked  the  outside 
door  and  found  the  keys  which  took  them  through  the  second  ; 
but  through  the  third  there  was  no  such  easy  passage.  Here  they 
had  to  use  their  jimmies  and  wedges,  and  when  they  got  to  the 
safes  they  brought  into  service  all  sorts  of  ingenious  tools.  There 
was  a strong  smell  of  powder  in  this  inner  vault  when  the  detec- 
tives entered.  The  floor  was  covered  with  powder  cans,  fuses, 
drills,  blow-pipes,  bits,  wedges,  jack-screws,  and  steel  and  copper 
sledges.  More  wonderful,  though,  than  all  the  burglars’  tools  was 
the  wealth  which  lay  scattered  over  the  floor,  left  by  the  thieves. 
Here  were  bags  of  gold  and  nickel  coins,  bundles  of  checks, 
bonds,  notes,  books,  papers  and  fractional  currency,  all  mixed 
up  in  a hopeless  confusion,  and  all  soaked  with  water.  Inside 
the  safes  were  bags  of  gold  untouched;  in  one  box  was  $160,000 
in  gold  and  gold  certificates,  yet  the  burglars  didn’t  seem  to  care 
for  it. 

More  signs  of  the  burglars’  depredations  were  noticeable  out- 
side the  vault.  The  floor  of  the  business  room,  behind  the  coun- 
ter, was  littered  with  depositors’  boxes  and  their  contents.  The 
thieves  had  gone  through  them,  but  had  taken  very  little.  At  the 
windows  the  small  diamond-shaped  apertures  above  the  iron  shut- 
ters were  covered  with  black  muslin  and  silk.  In  the  floor  of  the 
president’s  room  had  been  bored  a hole,  two  feet  long  and  twenty 
inches  wide.  It  was  directly  in  front  of  his  desk,  and  had  appar- 
ently been  worked  at  several  days  previous  to  the  robbery.  In 
the  basement,  below  the  bank  offices,  were  found  a bundle  of 
United  States  bonds,  a lot  of  silverware,  hundreds  of  dollars  in 
notes  and  mutilated  fractional  currency,  half-eaten  sandwiches,  a 
dark-lantern,  tools  and  old  clothing.  The  basement  windows 
were  fastened  and  the  doors  locked. 

Our  detectives  looked  at  all  this,  and,  it  cannot  be  denied,  they 
were  mystified.  The  work  had  been  done  very  systematically  and 
intelligently,  and  yet  it  seemed  as  if  the  robbers  had  cherished 
just  a little  contempt  for  “filthy  lucre,”  so  much  had  they  left 
scattered  on  the  floor.  It  could  not  have  been  that  they  were 
frightened  away,  for  they  had  stopped  to  close  doors  and  windows 
after  them.  Indeed,  there  seemed  no  way  of  accounting  for  the 
state  of  things  which  we  found.  When  the  officers  of  the  bank 


250 


A MYSTERIOUS  TRUNK. 


had  made  an  investigation  into  their  iosses  they  found  that  $768,- 
879.74  had  been  carried  away,  and  that  $1,806,958  was  left. 

As  soon  as  they  had  recovered  their  senses  they  requested 
Theodore  M.  Davis,  who  had  been  the  bank’s  attorney  at  one 
time  or  another,  and  who  happened  in  the  bank  on  the  morning 
that  the  robbery  was  discovered,  to  undertake  an  investigation 
into  the  burglary.  He  accordingly  established  headquarters  at 
once  in  the  president’s  room,  and  called  in  the  detectives. 

Subsequent  search  on  the  part  of  the  detectives  only  added  to 
the  mystery.  Strange  as  had  been  the  conduct  of  the  thieves  on 
the  night  of  the  burglary,  stranger  was  it  afterward.  Early  on 
Tuesday  morning,  only  twenty-four  hours  after  the  robbery,  Pa- 
trolman Donahue,  of  the  Sixth  Precinct,  brought  to  the  station- 
house  a small  trunk  bound  around  with  a cord,  and  having  at- 
tached to  it  a piece  of  paper  on  which  was  written,  “ For  Capt. 
Jourdan,  of  Sixth  Ward.”  The  patrolman  reported  that  while  on 
his  beat,  two  men,  John  Hilton,  of  No.  8 Franklin  Street,  and  John 
Gowan,  of  No.  202  Catharine  Street,  had  pointed  out  to  him  the 
trunk,  which  was  then  in  front  of  No.  2 Elizabeth  Street.  As 
they  called  his  attention  to  it,  they  remarked : 

“ Perhaps  there’s  a dead  baby  in  it.” 

There  was  no  baby  in  it,  however.  It  contained  nothing  less 
than  a portion  of  the  property  which  had  been  stolen  from  the 
Ocean  Bank.  There  were  a few  hundred  dollars  in  cash,  and  the 
remainder,  amounting  to  more  than  $275,000,  was  in  securities. 
Among  the  checks  was  one  of  the  cashier  of  the  Exchange  Bank, 
payable  to  the  order  of  D.  R.  Martin,  the  president  of  the  Ocean 
Bank,  for  $75,000.  Another  was  drawn  by  President  Martin  for 
$20,000,  payable  to  himself,  and  still  another  was  drawn  by  the 
cashier,  C.  S.  Stevenson,  for  $4000,  payable  to  himself.  The  two 
latter  had  been  paid  on  the  Saturday  before  the  robbery. 

The  policy  of  the  bank,  as  expressed  and  carried  out  by  Mr. 
Davis,  was  to  get  possession,  not  of  the  thieves,  but  of  the  stolen 
property.  For  this  reason  the  police  thereafter  worked  against 
great  odds.  They  did  the  best  they  could,  however,  and  what 
they  found  is  herewith  given.  The  entire  mystery  of  the  case  was 
not  solved  and  probably  never  will  be. 

Until  February  8,  of  the  year  of  the  robbery,  the  Globe  Insur- 
ance Company  had  occupied  the  basement  of  the  building  in 
which  the  Ocean  Bank  was  situated.  The  general  manager  was 


“ they’ve  done  it.” 


2Sl 


Edgar  E.  Holly,  an  intimate  friend  of  President  Martin.  One 
morning  in  May,  1868,  Mr.  Holly  discovered  some  wax,  such  as 
is  used  by  burglars,  around  the  keyhole  of  the  front  basement 
door.  A few  weeks  later  he  found  the  lock  badly  out  of  order, 
and  on  several  occasions  saw  suspicious  persons  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  the  building.  Each  time  his  suspicions  were  aroused,  and 
he  told  President  Martin  that  he  feared  a burglary  of  the  bank 
was  threatened.  The  president  laughed,  and  boasted  the  strength 
of  the  vaults.  Later  on,  the  porter  of  the  bank  reported  that  on 
one  or  two  occasions  he  had  seen  strangers  inside  the  railing  near 
the  vault.  Once  also  he  had  seen  a suspicious- looking  man  in  the 
president’s  room,  who  had  jumped  out  of  the  window  into  Fulton 
Street  as  soon  as  he  was  discovered.  Other  warnings  came. 
Sergeant  Phillips  reported  the  presence  of  suspicious  characters 
in  the  neighborhood  of  the  bank,  and  two  months  before  the  rob- 
bery Detective  Keneally  told  the  bank  officers  that  an  attempt  on 
the  Ocean  Bank  was  probable.  In  spite  of  all  these  warnings  the 
president  did  not  heed.  He  had  implicit  trust  in  the  strength  of 
the  vaults,  and  declined  to  have  the  bank  watched.  On  the  morn- 
ing of  the  robbery,  when  Mr.  Holly  entered  the  bank,  he  said  to 
the  president,  significantly : 

“ Well,  they’ve  done  it,  haven’t  they  ? ” Whereupon  Mr.  Mar- 
tin, who  was  greatly  agitated,  whispered  to  Holly  : 

“ For  God’s  sake  and  mine,  never  speak  of  any  conversation 
that  has  passed  between  me  and  you  in  relation  to  the  robbery  of 
this  bank.” 

It  was  in  William  J.  Sharkey’s  handsomely  fitted  billiard  parlors 
in  Broadway  that  the  robbery  of  the  Ocean  Bank  was  schemed. 
Sharkey  was  a notorious  character.  The  son  of  a prominent 
church  member,  he  became  early  in  life  a pickpocket.  From  this 
occupation  he  drifted  intoother  criminal  pursuits,  until,  in  1869,  he 
was  one  of  the  biggest  rascals  in  New  York,  and  at  the  same 
time  had  such  a political  influence  that  he  was  the  companion  of 
judges,  legislators  and  office-holders.  Into  the  crime  which  he 
had  now  in  mind  he  enticed  William  McKay,  called  sometimes 
“ Canada  Mac,”  a great  sporting  man,  but  known  to  the  police  as 
a burglar.  The  first  plan  agreed  upon  by  these  conspirators  was 
to  employ  a sneak  thief  to  do  the  burglary.  For  this  purpose, 
Charles  King,  an  expert  English  thief,  was  brought  over  to  this 


252 


PREPARATIONS. 


country.  He  it  was  whom,  in  1868,  the  janitor  of  the  Ocean  Bank 
Building  saw  leap  out  of  a window  in  the  president’s  room. 

For  a whole  year  Sharkey  and  McKay  were  planning  the  rob- 
bery, but  their  efforts  met  with  no  success.  Then  they  changed 
their  tactics.  There  was  a man  whom  McKay  knew,  called 
William  O’Kell.  This  individual  was  a broker,  and  did  business 
under  the  Stuyvesant  Bank,  on  Broadway,  above  Grand  Street. 
He  had  previously  assisted  thieves  in  disposing  of  their  stolen 
property.  Sharkey  and  McKay  arranged  with  O’Kell  that  he 
should  lease  the  basement  under  the  Ocean  Bank  Building,  re- 
cently vacated  by  the  Globe  Insurance  Company,  and  sublet  the 
rear  part  of  it  to  McKay,  who  was  to  be  known  by  the  name  of 
Lewis  K.  Cole.  This  was  done  early  in  June,  1869,  and  unbeknown 
to  everybody  save  themselves  the  work  of  getting  at  the  Ocean 
Bank’s  vaults  went  on.  About  this  time  also  they  enlisted  in  their 
plans  two  well-known  thieves,  Max  Shinburn  and  George  Miles 
White.  To  the  basement  they  brought  their  tools  and  lanterns. 
In  some  way  they  got  information  regarding  what  was  in  the  bank, 
what  the  combination  for  unfastening  the  outside  door  of  the  vault 
was,  and  where  they  were  to  find  the  keys  to  the  second  door. 
To  such  a degree  was  their  task  lightened.  To  effect  an  entrance 
to  the  president’s  room  they  bored  the  hole  which  was  found 
afterwards  in  the  floor  under  his  desk. 

At  last  everything  was  completed.  Sunday  night  was  chosen 
for  the  burglary,  because  the  janitor  was  in  the  habit  of  being 
away  at  that  time.  One  by  one  the  thieves  crawled  up  through 
the  hole,  and  then  they  began  their  operations.  Sharkey  pointed 
out  what  securities  they  should  take  and  what  they  should  leave. 
They  obeyed  his  commands,  mysterious  as  the  latter  were,  and 
stole  the  amount  which  has  already  been  mentioned.  They 
carried  the  plunder  to  a wholesale  liquor  house  near  by  and  di- 
vided it.  Within  twenty-four  hours,  however,  after  the  robbery 
was  discovered  negotiations  had  been  opened  between  the  burg- 
lars and  the  bank  officers,  which  resulted  in  the  former  return- 
ing the  securities  found  in  the  little  trunk  on  Elizabeth  Street, 
and  making  off  with  the  remainder. 

Some  time  during  the  month  of  March,  1874,  a man  named  J. 
J.  Gilmore  became  the  lessee  of  what  was  known  as  the  Gilmore 
Building,  corner  of  Eighth  Avenue  and  Fourteenth  Street,  at  a 
rental  of  $7000  a year.  This  Gilmore  Building  adjoined  the 


“click,  click,  click!” 


253 


premises  occupied  by  the  New  York  Savings  Bank,  the  entrance 
to  which  was  on  Eighth  Avenue,  near  the  corner.  Previous  to 
Gilmore’s  tenancy,  the  Gilmore  Building  had  been  occupied  by 
John  Arthur  as  a billiard  hall,  saloon  and  restaurant.  Under 
Arthur’s  management  even,  the  place  was  never  kept  in  decent 
shape,  but  when  Gilmore  came  into  possession  it  was  allowed  to 
go  to  “ rack  and  ruin,”  and  it  was  a subject  for  wonder  among 
those  who  resided  in  the  locality  as  to  how  he  made  a living. 
Rumors  were  circulated  among  a certain  class  that  Gilmore  was 
none  other  than  J.  J.  Clare,  a noted  bank  burglar,  but  these  sus- 
picions never  came  to  the  ears  of  the  officers  of  the  bank,  and 
they  therefore  took  no  particular  notice  of  their  neighbors.  And 
so  matters  went  along  until  shortly  before  midnight  of  Friday, 
June  27,  when  Patrolman  Keller,  of  the  Sixteenth  Precinct,  passed 
the  building.  A peculiar  “ click,  click,  click  ” was  borne  to  his 
ears,  seemingly  emanating  from  the  bank  premises.  What  could  it 
mean  ? Then  the  noise  ceased,  only  to  be  resumed  in  a minute  or 
so.  “ Click,  click,  click!”  There  it  was  again.  From  whence 
did  it  come  ? Suddenly  there  flashed  to  his  brain  the  thought  that 
there  was  something  wrong  going  on  in  the  bank.  “ Click,  click, 
click,”  once  more.  This  time  there  could  be  no  doubt  about  it. 
He  at  once  ran  to  the  corner,  and  despatched  Officer  Sinclair, 
whom  he  found  there,  to  the  Twentieth  Street  Police  Station  for 
assistance.  This  soon  arrived  in  the  person  of  Captain  Cherry, 
accompanied  by  three  or  four  patrolmen.  They  listened,  and 
could  plainly  hear  the  same  noise  which  had  attracted  Keller’s 
attention  in  the  first  instance.  He  also  was  convinced  that  all 
was  not  right  in  the  bank.  By  his  directions,  the  officers  under 
him  attempted  to  force  an  entrance  into  the  Gilmore  Building  at 
the  Eighth  Avenue  entrance.  The  door  was  a stout  one  and  re- 
sisted their  utmost  efforts.  Dashing  up  the  front  steps,  Captain 
Cherry  gave  the  bell-handle  a vigorous  pull,  and  a resounding 
peal  followed.  In  response,  a window  on  the  second  floor  was 
opened  and  a head  appeared. 

“ What  do  you  want  ? Who  are  you  ? ” it  asked. 

Captain  Cherry  shouted  that  they  were  police  officers  and 
wished  to  be  admitted  immediately. 

“ All  right,”  replied  the  head,  which  at  once  disappeared,  and 
the  window  was  closed.  1 

A minute  or  more  elapsed,  during  which  the  sound  of  hurrying 


254 


WHAT  CAPTAIN  CHERRY  SAW. 


footsteps  was  heard  in  the  basement.  Impatient  at  the  delay,  the 
captain  was  about  to  ring  the  bell  again,  when  three  men  were 
seen  to  jump  out  of  a rear  window  and  run  in  the  direction  of 
Ninth  Avenue.  The  officers  followed,  and  after  a short,  sharp  run, 
managed  to  capture  them.  Two  of  the  prisoners,  Wm.  Morgan 
and  John  Simpson,  were  well  known  as  “crooks,”  but  the  other, 
who  gave  his  name  as  Charles  Sanborn,  was  a perfect  stranger. 

Meanwhile,  Captain  Cherry  had  not  been  idle,  but  had  suc- 
ceeded in  entering  the  Gilmore  Building  by  prying  open  a window. 
Once  inside,  further  research  was  not  difficult.  A trap-door  in  the 
restaurant  floor  led  to  the  basement,  where  he  found  ample  evi- 
dence that  Officer  Keller  had  heard  the  “click,  click,  click  ” just 
in  time.  In  the  southerly  wall  of  the  building  a hole  about  four 
feet  square  had  been  made.  Four  courses  of  brick  had  been 
removed,  exposing  to  view  the  granite  slabs  of  which  the  outer 
casing  of  the  vault  of  the  New  York  Savings  Bank  was  constructed. 
No  attempt  had  been  made  to  blast  the  slabs,  but  in  one  of  them 
the  captain  noticed  a clearly-drilled,  polished  hole,  one  inch  in 
diameter  and  two  deep.  He  at  once  saw  that  no  hand-drill  had 
been  used.  Groping  around  in  the  dungeon-like  basement  he  soon 
came  across  a diminutive  upright  boiler,  attached  to  which  was  a 
portion  of  the  machinery  necessary  to  the  working  of  a drill.  The 
whole  floor  of  the  basement  was  covered  with  the  bricks  taken 
from  the  breach,  but  the  only  tool  found  was  a heavy  iron  mallet, 
tipped  with  lead  so  as  to  deaden  the  sound. 

Nothing  else  was  discovered,  but  it  was  evident  that  much 
time  and  labor  had  been  expended  in  the  “enterprise,”  which  was 
brought  to  such  an  untimely  conclusion. 

Gilmore,  the  lessee  of  the  building,  managed  to  escape,  and 
what  became  of  him  or  his  companions  I have  never  ascertained. 

Dan  Noble,  alias  Daniel  Dyson,  was  originally  a pickpocket, 
but  after  some  years’  practice  in  that  direction  graduated  as  a 
bank  sneak  of  the  highest  grade.  His  most  brilliant  exploit  was 
his  “snatching”  of  $100,000  from  the  Royal  Insurance  Company’s 
office  on  Broadway  in  broad  daylight.  He  is  also  said  to  have 
been  concerned  in  the  famous  Lord  bond  robbery,  when  $1,000,000 
were  stolen.  Being  sentenced  to  five  years’  imprisonment  at 
Auburn  for  burglary  at  Elmira,  New  York,  he  there  made  the 
acquaintance  of  Jimmy  Hope  and  James  Brady,  and  escaped  with 
them.  Subsequently  he  went  to  England,  where  he  associated, 


255 


A “TOP  SAWYER.” 

largely  with  “sporting  swells.”  He  visited  France  on  one  occa- 
sion, but  the  surroundings  were  uncongenial  and  he  returned  to 
England,  where  he  was  sentenced  to  twenty  years’  imprisonment 
for  forgery.  His  health  broke  down,  and  in  1878  he  died  in 
prison,  after  serving  about  half  his  term. 

Max,  or  Mark  Shinburn,  who  was  one  of  the  confederates  in 
the  Ocean  Bank  burglary,  was  an  aristocratic  criminal.  It  was 
his  habit  to  remark  with  great  earnestness  to  his  companions  that 


as  soon  as  he  got  wealthy  he  was  going  back  to  the  Fatherland  and 
become  a nobleman.  He  was  the  one  economical  criminal  I ever 
encountered.  Instead  of  dissipating  his  booty  among  male  and 
female  companions,  he  bought  letters  of  credit  and  made  them 
payable  to  friends  in  Prussia.  He  was  never  the  inmate  of  a 
prison  for  any  length  of  time,  and  only  had  to  do  with  the  “ safest  ” 
kind  of  robbery.  On  the  8th  or  9th  of  February,  1869,  while  I 
was  inspector,  John  F.  Young,  at  that  time  captain  of  the  detec- 
tive force,  received  information  from  General  Frank  Spinola  to 
the  effect  that  certain  men  had  offered  to  sell  him  some  stolen 


256 


GEN.  SPINOLA’S  PLAN. 


bonds.  A plan  was  accordingly  set  on  foot  to  entrap  the  parties. 
General  Spinola  hired  a room  at  No.  60  Broadway,  and  fitted  it  up 
with  the  necessary  furniture,  desks,  chairs,  safe,  etc.  A formid- 
able and  imposing-looking  package  of  counterfeit  bills  was  ob- 
tained from  United  States  Marshal  Robert  Murray,  and  given  to 
General  Spinola  so  as  to  enable  him  to  show  the  holders  of  the 
stolen  bonds,  who  had  been  notified  by  him  meanwhile  that  he  was 
ready  to  negotiate,  that  he  was  going  to  pay  cash.  On  February 
10  they  put  in  an  appearance.  The  general  received  them  in 
the  most  polite  and  agreeable  manner,  giving  them  to  understand 
that  he  was  willing  to  buy  the  bonds  if  a price  could  be  agreed 
upon.  Opening  the  safe  he  took  out  the  package  of  counterfeit 
money,  and  remarked  : “ You  see  I’m  ready  to  trade,  and  will  pay 
cash  down  for  the  bonds.”  After  some  further  conversation  an 
arrangement  was  made  by  which  they  were  to  call  the  next  day 
with  the  bonds.  Captain  Young  was  notified  by  General  Spinola 
to  this  effect,  and  at  the  time  agreed,  the  captain,  together  with 
detectives  James  Irving  and  Edsell,  concealed  themselves  near  the 
office  and  were  to  put  in  an  appearance  upon  a certain  signal. 
The  two  men  came,  bringing  the  bonds,  and  the  signal  was  given.* 
The  officers  rushed  into  the  room  and  arrested  them.  Upon 
being  questioned  they  gave  their  names  as  James  Weaver  and 
James  McCabe,  but  the  former'  was  recognized  as  no  less  an 
individual  than  Max  Shinburn,  while  the  latter  was  known  as 
“ Canada  Mac.”  They  were  taken  to  police  headquarters,  where 
$99,500  in  bonds,  stolen  from  the  First  National  Bank  of  Mary- 
land, was  found  on  them.  Within  the  past  month,  in  looking  over 
some  of  the  minutes  of  this  capture,  I have  had  occasion  to  exam- 
ine the  returns  of  arrests  made  by  the  Detective  Bureau  at  that  time, 
but  after  a careful  search  I failed  to  find  any  record  of  the  occur- 
rence at  headquarters.  The  fact  of  the  arrest  was  kept  a secret  at 
the  time,  as  the  two  prisoners,  it  was  said,  agreed  to  return  to  Mary- 
land without  waiting  for  the  formality  of  extradition  papers.  The 
two  were  thereupon  delivered  into  the  custody  of  a private  detective 
agency,  having  its  office  in  Baltimore.  The  officers  of  this  agency 
conveyed  Shinburn  and  Canada  Mac  to  Jersey  City,  en  route  for 
Baltimore.  Upon  arriving  in  Jersey  City,  so  I have  been  in- 
formed— and  I have  every  reason  for  placing  implicit  confidence 
in  my  informant — the  prisoners  delivered  to  the  private  detectives 
about  $20,600,  the  balance  of  the  amount  stolen  from  the  bank, 


o f|e  Hfrtfifl  of  I|e  Usottafg  of  %cart/errzt 

And  the  Sheriffs,  Constables  and  other  Peace  Officers  ol  the  several  Counties  in  the  said  State  : 


mm  it  Mae  /een  lefetesenlc / to  me  /y  Me  ^cvanct  y Me  Z/a/e  e/ 

/ 


elan/s  Matye/  u/iM  l/e  dime 

'sCC&  <y/eresv^f. 


comm  tote/ in  Me  bounty  cj/  <o/^) en  eato/ //ale 
an/  Mat  f/te  dad  ^/M ^aetice  in  Mai  //ale,  an/  /a<t 
ta/en  ie/uye  in  Me  //ate  y /ML  ^oM;  an/  l/ie  saic/  ^cvei-MOt  y 
///i  '7'7?se> 7 'iM-  /taviny  in  ^tuteuance  y Me  ^enstclulion  an/ 

/Mates  y Me  fyonite/ <, //ales,  /nan// , y me  Mat  // Ma// cause  Me  saiZ 
c-M/dc^jS  jM/of-v  Mccszotsv 

to  /e  aileele/  an/  /e/iveie/  to  //&  crt^t  ede^c-  ev/c  to  e/a/p 

cul/okje/  to  ieceive  j/cszt,  into  4m  caste//,,  anc/  convey  //szzt,  /ac4  to  Me 
sat/  //late  y /Z/Zi'  ■?'?  v/cro'cM 

rnttm,  Me  sat/  Icfaesenlahon  anc/  /mast/  to  accent/ianto/  ty 

^OctoeZT^l  Zr  Ct^ToS/  ^cr77tf/tztoeee>*'C& 


sCS 


cMtc  CZ^yt  /ooz.'f'V, 

Matye/ taiM  Me  sac/  dime  an/  weM  /atiny y/e/ y&m 
i Me,  an/  la/en  ytuye  in  Me  //tale  c/  M^eiv  ^0/,  ic4to4  dlSsi 


ceilc/ee/  4y  Me  sat/  ^oveinci  y Ml/ 


-7 -7 vent/  to  /e  c/ct/y  auMenticato/  - 


fjon  are,  therefare,  teyuiie/  to  ailesl  an/ secttie  Me  sat/ 

/MMo?  'V  /ccOe77/, 

ec/eievei  Tte/  may  4e y<cn/  eoiMm  Me  //tale  an/  to  e4/Zvd 
into  Me  cuetc/f  y Me  sai/  <//i  cz^zoiccs  (MZucecie  to  /e  ta/en  4zc4  to 
Me  Sac/  //ate yam  u/tM  y/e/ jfiui/uanl  to  t/ie  eat/ ieyutoilicn. 

totfH  Mttde*  Wg  foflttfl,  an/  M Petty  Seal  y Me 

t/e  /city  y sM/fany,  Mto  M/z  avti/ttoC 

Mousan/  eca/it  /a 


§Jg  fire  §mxmx : 


aj/’ 

Jrtt  £ttirf*rg. 

<7 


17 


2s7 


258 


HOW  STRANGE. 


A few  hours  afterwards  Shinburn  and  his  .companion  were  seen 
walking  up  Broadway.  Early  in  1870,  while  John  Jourdan  was 
superintendent,  a warrant  of  Governor  Hoffman’s  was  placed  in  my 
hands  on  a requisition  from  the  Governor  of  Vermont,  directing 
the  arrest  of  Max  Shinburn.  In  the  words  of  the  requisition  he 
was  “ to  be  delivered  to  Leander  Powers,  duly  authorized  in  the 
State  of  Vermont  to  receive  and  carry  the  prisoner  to  the  said 
State.”  The  date  of  the  warrant  was  March  30,  1869.  When 
I asked  the  authorities  from  Vermont  why  the  warrant  had  been 
held  over  so  long,  the  answer  was  that,  judging  from  former  trans- 
actions with  the  New  York  police,  they  feared  a miscarriage  of  jus- 
tice and  that  the  warrant  would  not  be  executed.  They  added  that 
a Mr.  Stone,  a dry  goods  merchant  of  New  York,  had  recommended 
the  placing  of  the  warrant  in  my  hands,  and  then  they  would  be 
assured  the  warrant  would  be  executed.  Somewhere  about  the 
time  of  my  receiving  the  warrant,  Shinburn  had  been  seen  in  a 
restaurant  on  Broadway,  near  Thirty-fourth  Street.  I told  Super- 
intendent Jourdan  of  this,  and  also  of  the  fact  that  I had  a warrant 
for  Shinburn’s  arrest,  asking  him  whether  I should  serve  it  or  hand 
it  over  to  some  one  else.  His  reply  was : 

“ Keep  it,  and  serve  it — if  you  can.” 

A week  elapsed,  and  the  next  information  I received  of  Shin- 
burn’s  whereabouts  was  that  he  was  in  Canada. 

Comments  on  the  whole  transaction  are  needless.  So  far  as  the 
police  department  of  the  City  of  New  York  was  concerned  it  was 
disgraceful.  A door  was  actually  opened  for  the  escape  of  two 
notorious  criminals,  while  the  absence  of  any  record  of  the  matter 
at  headquarters  convinces  me  that  there  must  have  been  a terri- 
ble amount  of  rottenness  permeating  many  grades  of  the  police 
force. 

Max  Shinburn,  I have  since  learned,  finally  became  as  wealthy  as 
he  desired,  and  bidding  farewell  to  his  associates  he  sailed  for  his 
long-wishedTor  Fatherland.  There  he  bought  an  estate,  employed 
servants,  dazzled  the  natives,  and  finally,  after  announcing  to  the 
country  about  his  estate  that  he  had  been  a bank  president  in  Amer- 
ica, bought  the  title  of  Baron  of  the  principality  of  Monaco  and  be- 
came a nobleman.  His  acquaintance  with  affairs  and  interiors 
of  banks  bore  out  his  claims  of  being  a retired  bank  president  and 
as  “ Baron  Shindell  ” he  shines. 

But  perhaps  the  most  audacious  and  withal  amusing  robbery 


RESPECTABILITY  NO  SURETY. 


259 


which  was  intimately-  connected  with  a bank  was  the  experience 
of  a messenger  of  the  Greenwich  Savings  Bank,  in  1868.  This 
messenger  was  a man  of  unimpeachable  honesty  and  of  great 
strength.  He  had  frequently  carried  large  sums  of  money  from 
the  savings  institution  to  the  bank  of  deposit  and  had  never  met 
the  smallest  or  most  uninteresting  adventure.  This  man  is  still 
alive,  and  as  publicity  will  not  benefit  him  I shall  call  him  by  the 
euphonious  name  of  Buggins.  His  great  pride  always  was  that  he 
was  seldom  known  as  Buggins,  the  bank-messenger,  but  “ Buggins, 
the  gentleman  connected  with  the  Greenwich  Savings  Bank.”  His 
air  of  respectability  was  so  penetrating  and  infectious  that  one  was 
always  inclined  to  accost  him,  not  with  the  breezy  and  flippant  in 
quiry  concerning  the  weather,  but  about  last  Sunday’s,  sermon  or 
the  latest  quotation  in  “ Governments.” 

Now  on  certain  days  of  the  week  Buggins  was  accustomed  to  go 
through  the  following  procedure  : he  would  first  go  to  a closet 
where  hung  a respectable  hat ; removing  this  hat  from  its  peg  he 
would  place  it  upon  his  head  ; then  drawing  on  a pair  of  respecta- 
ble gloves  he  would  take  a cane,  after  which  a large  black  bag;  all 
this  slowly  and  methodically.  Thus  armed  he  would  proceed  to 
the  bank  of  deposit,  where  he  would  obtain  a sufficient  number  of 
bank-bills  of  small  denominations  to  fill  the  black  bag.  He  would 
then  return  with  these  bills  to  the  Greenwich  Savings  Bank,  where 
they  were  used  to  pay  depositors  who  desired  bank-notes  of  a 
small  denomination. 

A thief  with  a vivid  imagination  had  long  watched  these  pro- 
ceedings with  the  most  profound  interest,  and  his  mouth  had  wat- 
ered at  the  sight  of  his  bag.  “ So  near  and  yet  so  far  ” ; and  “ he 
said  to  himself  said  he,”  “ I will  have  that  there  bag  and  I will 
get  it  without  putting  my  precious  carcass  in  the  slightest  danger.” 
So  one  day  he  boldly  walked  up  to  an  officer  in  uniform  who  was 
standing  on  a street  corner,  and  said  : 

“ I am  a detective  from  headquarters,  and  Superintendent  Ken- 
nedy [who  was  at  that  time  Chief  of  Police]  has  instructed  me  to 
arrest  a notorious  counterfeiter  whom  we  have  long  been  watching, 
and  who  will  probably  soon  pass  this  way  with  a black  bag  full  of 
counterfeit  bills.  I shall  require  your  assistance.” 

The  policeman,  seeing  in  his  mind’s  eye  his  name  in  the  morning 
papers,  coupled  with  such  expressions  as  “ Gallant  conduct  of  an 
officer. — Arrest  of  a dangerous  criminal  by  Policeman  X,”  with 


260 


A TOO-CREDULOUS  PATROLMAN. 


perhaps  a sergeant’s  baton  in  the  background,  joyfully  acquiesced, 
and  when  in  due  course  of  time  Buggins,  with  his  bag  of  money, 
drew  near,  the  officer  bore  down  on  him  and  seized  him  with  such 
an  iron  grip  that  he  was  for  the  moment  completely  paralyzed. 
The  thief,  who  had,  simultaneously  with  the  officer,  grabbed  poor 
Buggins  and  the  bag,  but  especially  the  bag,  said  to  the  patrolman 
in  an  authoritative  tone : 

“Take  him  to  the  station-house  while  I go  with  the  bag  to  Super- 
intendent Kennedy.  We  will  join  you  at  the  station.”  And  then 
he  at  once  made  off  with  the  bag,  in  spite  of  the  imploring  and  con- 
fused imprecations  of  the  horrified  bank-messenger.  By  this  time 
a large  crowd  had  collected,  and  one  gentleman  asked  the  police- 
man what  the  prisoner  had  done. 

“ Done  ! ” replied  the  patrolman,  stopping  and  holding  Buggins 
off  at  arm’s  length  for  a moment  while  he  gloated  over  his  triumph. 
“ Done  everything — counterfeiting,  bigamy  and  arson.” 

“I  am  a bank  officer,”  howled  Buggins,  “ and  you  shall  suffer  for 
this.” 

“Oh ! yes,”  howled  the  crowd,  “you  are  a nice  bank  officer,  you 
are.  He  a banker  ! Look  at  the  villain  ! ” Did  the  officer  require 
assistance  in  taking  the  hardened  vagabond  to  the  station  ? Hun- 
dreds of  willing  hands  were  stretched  out  to  aid  him.  And  the  un- 
happy Buggins  was  marched  to  the  Twenty-Seventh  Precinct  station 
followed  by  a delighted  crowd,  sarcastically  jubilant  at  his  claims 
to  be  a banker.  When  he  reached  the  station  the  officer  in 
command  of  course  promptly  informed  Supt.  Kennedy  and  the 
bank.  Then  came  the  furious  Chief  of  Police,  next  the  presi- 
dent of  the  bank  with  every  hair  erect  with  anger  and  dismay, 
afterwards  the  cashier,  with  a pale  face.  With  this  re-enforcement 
to  his  reputation,  Buggins  was  discharged. 

A general  alarm  was  sent  out  for  the  arrest  of  the  thief  with  the 
bag,  but  too  late  ; the  thief  had  disappeared,  and  neither  he  nor  the 
money  were  ever  afterwards  heard  of.  The  credulous  patrolman 
was  tried  and  dismissed  from  the  force. 


r 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


ROBBING  THE  MANHATTAN  BANK. — A SYNDICATE  OF  BURGLARS. — \ 

A NARROW  ESCAPE. THE  DUMMY  MISLEADING. QUICK  WORK.1 — « 

LOADED  WITH  WEALTH. — A LOQUACIOUS  POLICEMAN. — NABBED. 
— A GENIUS  AS  A BANK  BURGLAR. — THE  DECOMPOSING  BODY. — 
A MISTAKE  AT  NORRISTOWN. — A YOUTHFUL  BRIDE. — THE  SOUTH 
KENSINGTON  BANK. — A WIFE’S  DISCOVERY. — THE  LAST  TIME 
ALIVE. — PROBABLY  THE  MURDERER. 

The  bells  of  old  Trinity  and  St.  Paul’s  had  barely  finished 
striking  the  hour  of  ten  on  the  morning  of  Sunday,  October  27, 
1878,  when  a man,  almost  breathless,  and  quivering  with  excite- 
ment, rushed  into  the  little  barber  shop  in  Bleecker  Street  under 
the  Manhattan  Institute  for  Savings.  For  a moment  he  was  una- 
ble to  utter  a word  in  explanation  of  his  unceremonious  entrance. 
At  length  he  gasped  out : 

“ The  bank’s  been  robbed  ! ” 

Louis  Werckle,  the  janitor  of  the  Manhattan  Bank  Building, 
was  the  person  who  imparted  this  startling  information. 
When  sufficiently  recovered  to  converse  coherently,  he  said  that 
shortly  after  six  o’clock  that  morning,  while  he  was  dressing, 
seven  or  eight  men  burst  in  the  door  of  his  bedroom.  They  all 
wore  masks,  and  securely  binding  him,  his  wife  and  his  mother-in- 
law,  left  one  of  their  number  to  guard  the  terrified  trio.  Shortly 
before  ten  o’clock  he  and  his  family  were  released,  and  going  into 
the  bank  he  found  to  his  dismay  that  the  vault  had  been  broken 
into. 

The  police  were  at  once  informed,  and  an  investigation  began 
which  finally  resulted  in  the  arrest  and  conviction  of  at  least  two 
of  those  engaged  in  the  robbery.  It  was  found  that  the  total  sum 
stolen  amounted  to  $2,747,700,  of  which  $2,506,700  was  in  regis- 
tered bonds,  $241,000  in  coupon  bonds  and  $12,764  in  cash. 

Three  years  previously,  a syndicate  of  some  of  the  foremost 
burglars  in  America  had  planned  this  daring  robbery.  The  chief 
partaking  in  that  conspiracy  were  George  Leonidas  Leslie,  alias 

261 


262 


A SYNDICATE. 


Howard  ; “Jimmy”  Hope,  “Jim  ” Brady,  “Abe  ” Coakley,  John, 
alias  “Red,”  Leary,  “ Shang”  Draper,  “Johnny  ” Dobbs,  “Sam  ” 
Perris  (“  Worcester  Sam  ”),  Pete  Emerson  (“  Banjo  Pete  ”), 
Mother  Mandelbaum  and  John  D.  Grady,  known  as  the  “Banker 
of  the  Burglars.”  The  preliminary  expenses  of  working  up  the 
burglary  were  largely  borne  by  Grady.  Mrs.  Mandelbaum  also 
furnished  considerable  money.  The  remainder  came  from  the 
pockets  of  the  clique.  It  was  an  “inside  ” job  from  the  start,  and 


PETE  EMERSON,  alias  BANJO  PETE. 
(From  a Photograph  in  the  Rogues’  Gallery.) 


was  managed  chiefly  by  “ Shang  ” Draper  and  Leslie.  In  thieves’ 
slang  it  was  a “pudding”;  the  bank  was  wealthy,  and  always 
kept  a large  amount  of  cash  and  negotiable  security  on  hand  ; the 
vault,  although  apparently  impregnable,  was  easy  to  enter,  and 
enough  police  protection  from  subordinates  in  the  department  was 
assured  to  render  surprise  in  the  commission  of  the  burglary  diffi- 
cult. The  bank  premises  were  as  accurately  surveyed  by  Leslie 
as  they  would  have  been  had  a professional  architect  been  em- 


EXPERIMENTS.  263 

ployed.  Every  nook  and  corner  was  perfectly  well  known  to  the 
members  of  the  gang. 

During  the  three  years  preceding  the  robbery  several  “ mobs  ” 
were  got  up  for  the  purpose  of  consummating  the  scheme.  It  was 
at  first  proposed  to  become  possessed  of  the  wealth  of  the  bank 
by  a brutal,  coarse  and  vulgar  burglary,  which  should  be  accom- 
panied by  the  forcible  overcoming  of  those  who  guarded  the  bank 
at  night.  Then  more  cunning  schemes  were  devised.  The  nature 
of  the  fastenings  of  the  bank  vault  were  ascertained,  and  the  con- 
clusion was  reached  that  it  was  better  to  enter  by  gentler  means 
than  by  wedges,  mallets  and  jimmies.  The  use  of  powder  or  dy- 
namite was  not  to  be  thought  of.  In  the  first  place,  the  bank  had 
large  plate-glass  windows,  which  would  not  permit  of  an  explosion 
within,  without  disastrous  results , and  in  the  second  place,  there 
were  persons  living  in  the  adjacent  buildings  who  would  most 
certainly  be  aroused,  by  such  a shock. 

The  thieves  thought  that  the  combination  of  the  lock  of  the 
vault  could  be  easily  discovered.  The  task  of  finding  how  this 
could  best  be  accomplished  was  assigned  to  the  arch-mechanic 
and  business  man  of  the  rascally  clique — George  Leonidas  Leslie, 
whose  history  was  most  adventurous  and  whose  fate  was  tragic. 
Leslie  was  then  living  with  his  wife,  Mary  Henrietta,  nee  Coath, 
at  No.  861  Greene  Avenue,  Brooklyn.  Knowing  the  style  of  the 
combination  lock  to  the  vault,  he  procured  one  of  the  same  make 
from  Messrs.  Valentine  and  Butler,  and,  with  Draper,  experi- 
mented on  it  at  his  home.  He  found  that  the  combination  could 
be  thrown  out  of  gear,  and  the  notches  of  the  tumblers,  of  which 
there  were  four,  brought  into  line  by  boring  a hole  under  the  in- 
dicator, and  working  the  tumblers  around  with  a fine  piece  of 
steel  inserted  in  the  hole.  When  this  much  was  decided  upon 
the  clique  planned  to  introduce  a confederate  into  the  service  of 
the  bank.  After  months  of  scheming  they  succeeded.  A few 
weeks  later  Leslie  was  admitted  to  the  bank  at  night  by  the  con- 
federate, and  attempted  with  the  real  lock  what  he  had  done  with 
his  “ dummy  ” at  home.  He  was  delighted  when  he  found  he 
could  throw  two  of  the  tumblers  into  line.  This  work,  was  done 
under  circumstances  which  would  make  most  men  nervous. 

The  time  had  not  arrived  when  the  policeman  on  duty  in  the 
street  outside  should  become  one  of  the  clique.  The  man  then 
on  patrol  was  a faithful  officer,  and  his  virtues  were  known  to 


264 


RESULTS. 


no  one  so  well  as  to  Leslie  ; so  that,  working  at  the  lock,  under  a 
black  screen  which  shaded  the  light  he  was  using  from  passers-by 
in  the  street,  he  did  not  succeed  in  moving  all  the  tumblers.  He 
believed  he  had  ample  time  to  perfect  his  plan  on  a subsequent 
occasion.  Accordingly,  he  puttied  up  the  hole  he  had  made  un- 
der the  indicator  dial  and  left  the  bank.  He  had  experimented 
with  the  tumblers  so  much,  and  was  so  nervous,  that  he  neglected 
to  place  them  as  they  were  when  he  began  his  operations.  The 
consequence  was  that  when  the  bank  authorities  tried  to  open  the 
safe  the  next  day  there  was  found  to  be  something  wrong.  The 
maker  of  the  safe  was  sent  for,  and  when  the  lock  plate  was  taken 
off  the  hole  made  by  Leslie  was  discovered.  Strangely  enough,  the 
officers  of  the  bank  took  little  notice  of  this  extraordinary  circum- 
stance. 

Later  on,  another  similar  attempt  was  made  by  the  gang  (the 
composition  of  which  had  been  greatly  changed,  owing  to  various 
reasons),  but  it  was  again  thwarted,  simply  from  the  fact  that  the 
construction  of  the  dummy  lock  was  slightly  different  from  the  real 
one,  and  it  would  have  been  necessary,  in  order  to  insure  success, 
to  have  bored  the  hole  one-eighth  of  an  inch  lower  than  they  did. 
The  attempt  to  open  the  vault  by  mild  means,  therefore,  was 
abandoned.  The  gang  managed,  however,  to  introduce  into  the 
bank  a second  confederate  as  watchman — Patrick  Shevlin — and 
it  was  now  arranged  to  commit  an  extraordinary  burglary  in  an 
ordinary,  -every-day  manner. 

Thus  it  came  about,  that  at  six  o’clock  on  Sunday  morning, 
October  27,  1878,  the  gang  entered  the  bank  and  bound  the  jan- 
itor and  his  family,  as  before  described.  It  is  now  almost  certain 
that  the  men  actually  engaged  in  the  robbery  were  “Jimmy” 
Hope  (who  did  the  hardest  work),  William  Kelly,  “ Abe  ” Coakley, 
and  “ Pete  ” Emerson,  who  were  aided  outside  by  John  Nugent,  a 
policeman  of  the  Eighteenth  Precinct  who  was  on  the  sick-list,  and 
afterwards  arrested  in  Hoboken  for  an  atrocious  and  daring  high- 
way robbery  on  a bank  officer.  Louis  Werckle’s  story  that  the 
burglars  were  seven  or  eight  in  number  is  generally  conceded  to 
be  incorrect,  as  information  obtained  from  men  who  were  allowed 
their  liberty  in  consideration  of  the  confessions  they  made,  places 
the  number  at  four. 

After  securing  Werckle  and  his  family,  the  burglars  proceeded 
to  the  bank  and  began  operations  on  the  safe.  They  had  brought 


MANHATTAN  BANiv. 


265 


266 


A BAD  WRECK. 


with  them  the  finest  kit  of  tools  ever  used  in  a bank  burglary. 
Every  article  composing  it  was  of  the  best  workmanship  and  ma- 
terial, and  the  cost  of  getting  up  such  a collection  could  not  have 
been  less  than  $2500  or  $3000.  Forcing  the  main  door  of  the 
safe,  they  broke  open  the  various  compartments,  making  so  much 
noise  that  it  was  distinctly  heard  by  Werckle  in  his  room.  No  one 
in  the  street,  or  in  the  St.  Charles  Hotel,  next  door,  heard  the 
noise.  It  was  not  even  heard  in  the  barber’s  shop  underneath ; 
but  this  is  explained  by  the  fact  that  the  foundations  of  the  vault 
were  of  enormous  thickness  and  imbedded  in  cement.  The  inte- 
rior compartments  were  constructed  of  the  hardest  steel,  and 
offered  great  resistance.  To  get  at  their  contents,  the  burglars 
had  to  wreck  them  utterly ; but  they  failed  to  open  several  which 
contained  large  amounts  of  cash.  The  whole  “ job  ” was  com- 
pleted in  the  most  expeditious  manner,  only  two  and  a half  or 
three  hours  being  consumed  in  the  operation.  Having  obtained 
possession  of  all  they  could  get  hold  of  the  thieves  placed  it  in 
satchels,  and  left  the  bank  unobserved.  One  of  the  “ carriers  ” on 
the  occasion,  so  it  is  said,  was  Policeman  Nugent. 

How  near  the  thieves  came  to  being  discovered  may  be  judged 
from  the  fact  that  while  they  were  at  work  Policeman  Van  Orden, 
of  the  Fifteenth  Precinct,  who  is  still  a member  of  the  force  and 
has  an  excellent  record,  passed  the  bank  and  mechanically  looked 
in.  He  saw  a man  inside,  whose  face  was  not  familiar  to  him, 
dusting  the  desks.  The  man  was  in  his  shirt-sleeves  and  hatless, 
and  nodded  familiarly  to  the  policeman.  Van  Orden  thought  so 
little  of  this  circumstance,  because  the  man  appeared  to  be  so 
slightly  interested  in  the  policeman’s  looking  into  the  place,  that 
he  went  on  about  his  business,  and  could  not  afterwards  fully  re- 
member the  features  of  the  man  he  had  seen. 

Within  an  hour  after  the  discovery  of  the  crime  all  the  re- 
sources of  the  police  department  were  called  into  requisition  by 
me.  The  detectives  assigned  to  the  case  all  agreed  that  never  be- 
fore was  such  a safe-wreck  seen.  No  such  “ ripping  out  ” had 
occurred  in  any  bank  burglary  that  had  come  under  their  notice. 
For  awhile  the  case  was  a complete  mystery,  and  the  public 
came  to  the  conclusion,  when  some  time  passed  and  no  arrests 
were  made,  that  we  had  given  up  a perhaps  hopeless  search.  But 
we  had  not.  Captain  Byrnes,  of  the  Fifteenth  Precinct,  now  in- 
spector, had,  by  winning  the  confidence  of  men  with  whom  the 


SMALL  POINTS. 


267 


actual  burglars  were  allied,  obtained  a vast  amount  of  valuable  in- 
formation. The  most  important  knowledge  thus  gained  came 
through  Policeman  Nugent’s  loquacity.  He  had  “ snickered  ” 
about  the  burglary,  had  spoken  of  the  “ boodle,”  and  had  declared 
that  he  carried  it  on  the  morning  of  the  burglary. 

It  was  not  until  late  in  May,  1879,  that  we  were  in  a position  to 
make  any  arrests.  Action  then  was  brought  about  by  the  confes- 


sion of  Shevlin.  In  substance,  Shevlin  said  that  the  gang  had 
gradually  won  his  confidence,  and  at  last  showed  him  how  he 
could  make  a fortune.  He  was  poorly  paid,  he  said,  and  the 
temptation  was  too  great  for  him.  Finally,  he  consented  to  enter 
partnership  with  the  thieves.  This  partnership  was  negotiated  by 
outside  members  of  the  gang — “ Little  Tracy  ” and  “ Big  Kid.” 
They  introduced  him  to  “ Jim  ” Brady,  and  the  result  was  the  two 
attempts  to  “ work  ” the  combination.  Then  came  the  decision  to 


268 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  TRANSGRESSOR. 


break  open  the  safe  by  violent  measures.  The  “ mob  ” which  ac- 
tually committed  the  burglary  was  made  up  in  New  York  City  on 
Friday  night,  October  25.  It  was  decided  to  rob  the  bank,  with 
Shevlin’s  connivance,  the  very  next  time  he  should  be  on  duty  as 
watchman.  This  occasion  presented  itself  two  days  afterwards. 
Shevlin  acted  most  injudiciously  after  the  burglary.  He  aban- 
doned his  former  frugal  habits,  spent  plenty  of  money  and  asso- 
ciated with  men  suspected  of  being  the  burglars.  When  cornered 
by  the  police  he  made  damaging  admissions,  and,  finally,  a full 
confession.  The  result  was  that  on  February  n,  1879,  Johnny 
Hope,  son  of  the  redoubtable  “ Jimmy,”  was  arrested  by  Detective 
Dolan  as  he  was  coming  out  of  the  Theatre  Comique.  He  was 
fully  identified  as  having  been  seen  in  front  of  the  bank  on  the 
morning  of  the  robbery.  On  June  2,  of  the  same  year,  Captain 
Byrnes  had  in  custody  Shevlin,  Hope,  Kelly,  and  a man  named 
Patrick  Ryan,  a bartender  in  a grog-shop  at  Avenue  C and 
Seventh  Street,  who  escaped  conviction,  but  who  is  even  now 
suspected  of  having  received  part  of  the  proceeds  of  the 
burglary.  The  arrest  of  Coakley  and  “ Pete  ” Emerson  followed. 
At  the  trial  of  Kelly  and  John  Hope  (whose  father  is  now  in  San 
Francisco  “ doing  time  ” for  a bank  robbery  there)  Policeman 
Nugent  was  an  interested  spectator.  The  police  had  been  in- 
formed that  a man  answering  his  description  was  implicated  in 
the  robbery.  He  was  accordingly  arrested  in  the  court-room  and 
charged  with  being  one  of  the  gang. 

Hope  and  Kelly  were  convicted,  but  Nugent,  it  is  said,  escaped 
conviction  at  the  time  by  bribing  one  of  the  jurors,  and  afterwards 
was  convicted  in  Hoboken  of  highway  robbery. 

The  loss  to  the  bank  was  comparatively  small,  all  the  registered 
securities  being  replaced.  Some  of  the  coupon  bonds  were  re- 
covered. The  principal  loss  was  in  the  ready  money.  What  was 
stolen  from  depositors’  boxes  has  never  been  ascertained,  but  was 
probably  not  far  from  $100,000. 

New  York’s  Thirty-fifth  Precinct  is  a straggling  annex  of  the 
great  city,  and  in  some  parts  it  is  as  sparsely  settled  as  the  Adiron- 
dacks.  In  no  part  of  it  were  there  fewer  houses  than  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  what  is  known  as  “ Tramps’  Rock.”  This  landmark 
is  close  to  the  dividing  line  between  Westchester  County  and  the 
County  of  New  York,  which  runs  from  Clara  Morris’s  country  villa 
to  Williams  Bridge  over  the  Bronx  River.  No  more  favorable 


tramps’  rock.  269 

neighborhood  for  the  commission  of  crime,  or  for  the  concealing 
of  its  results,  could  be  selected. 

On  the  4th  of  June,  1884,  Mounted  Patrolman  E.  Johnstone, 
while  riding  over  his  district,  was  not  very  much  surprised  when 
he  found,  near  the  base  of  the  rock,  the  partly  decomposed  body 
of  a man  who,  he  supposed,  had  committed  suicide.  There  was 
nothing  startling  in  the  appearance  of  the  body  or  its  surround- 
ings. so  far  as  casual  observation  went.  It  was  carried  to  an  un- 
dertaker’s  morgue  in  Yonkers,  where  it  remained  for  some  days. 
The  man  appeared  to  have  shot  himself  with  a white-handled  re- 
volver. The  weapon  was  found  near  the  body. 

Under  ordinary  circumstances  the  body  would  have  been  buried 
at  the  expense  of  the  county,  and  there  would  have  been  an  end  of 
the  matten  But  local  reporters  for  the  New  York  press  investi- 
gated the  finding  of  the  body,  and  published  an  accurate  descrip- 
tion of  the  corpse  and  the  clothing  on  it.  Equally  singular  was  the 
lack  of  common  prudence  displayed  by  Madame  Mandelbaum,  the 
notorious  “ fence.”  A “ client  ” of  hers — George  Leonidas  Leslie, 
alias  Western  George,  George  Howard,  J.  G.  Allison,  George  K. 
Leslie,  C.  G.  Greene,  etc.,  ad  infinitum — had  been  missing  for  sev- 
eral davs.  In  a certain  sense,  Leslie  was  the  chief  of  her  clique 
or  silk-stealing  and  bank-breaking  friends,  a man  who  had  brought 
to  her  coffers  many  thousands  of  dollars.  Mrs.  Mandelbaum 
dared  not  appear  at  Yonkers,  but  instead  sent  her  chosen  asso- 
ciate, Herman  Steid,  to  ascertain  if  the  body  was  that  of  Leslie. 
Steid’s  usual  self-possession  deserted  him  when  confronted  with 
the  dead.  His  emotion  was  so  manifest  that  the  local  coroner  felt 
assured  that  the  visitor  could  tell  something  of  the  supposed  sui- 
cide. He  questioned  him,  adroitly  obtaining  a sufficient  clew  on 
which  to  base  further  inquiries,  and  allowed  him  to  return  to  New 
York.  Pursuing  his  investigations,  the  coroner  visited  New  York 
and  made  his  errand  public.  The  press  became  interested,  and 
by  degrees  the  particulars  of  one  of  the  foulest  and  best-planned 
murders  of  the  age  was  obtained. 

George  Leonidas  Leslie  was  by  descent  an  Englishman,  his 
father,  in  1840,  emigrating  to  this  country  with  his  wife — a Miss 
Rodh — and  settling  in  the  western  part  of  the  State  of  New  York. 
He  had  three  children,  of  whom  George  was  born  in  this  country. 
Leaving  New  York  State,  Leslie’s  father  went  to  Cincinnati  and 
established  a brewery.  There  young  George  was  educated,  first 


270 


HIS  EARLY  LIFE. 


in  the  local  schools  and  then  in  the  university,  whence  he  was 
graduated  with  high  honors.  His  mother  died  in  the  interim  and 
his  father  married  again.  The  second  wife  ill-treated  her  step- 
children. George  left  home,  came  East  and  fell  into  bad  company. 
He  had  been  brought  up  in  luxury,  was  a spendthrift,  and  the 
tastes  he  had  acquired  for  ease  and  good  living  led  him  to  spend 
money  rapidly.  Possessing  great  mechanical  genius,  and  prompted 
by  the  acquaintances  he  had  made  among  the  criminal  classes,  he 
speedily  drifted  into  their  ranks.  His  forte  was  architecture  and 
the  use  of  house-breaking  tools.  From  his  father  he  inherited  the 
business  tact,  which  never  deserted  him.  He  was  above  commit- 
ting depredations  himself.  In  the  course  of  a criminal  career  ex- 
tending over  a period  of  twenty  years,  he  was  never  known  to  be 
connected  with  what  is  termed  a “clothes-line  affair.”  He  started 
in  at  the  top  of  the  ladder ; and  supposing  he  had  been  interested 
in  a thousand  burglaries,  those  in  which  he  was  indirectly  con- 
cerned would  number  more  than  three-fourths  of  them.  During 
the  latter  years  of  his  life  he  was  sought  for  by  active  criminals, 
first  as  a “putter-up,”  or  planner  of  robberies,  and,  second,  as  a 
disposer  of  the  plunder.  He  was  such  an  expert  mechanic  and  so 
able  a negotiator,  that  his  fame  spread  wherever  first-class  crimi- 
nals associated.  Supposing  him,  for  instance,  to  be  in  Cincinnati. 
A telegram  might  summon  him  to  Boston,  Philadelphia,  New  York, 
or  any  other  large  city,  simply  to  “look  over”  the  scheme  for  a 
burglary  which  might  be  carried  out  by  others.  Or,  it  might  be 
he  was  wanted  to  dispose  of  what  had  been  obtained  by  a previous 
robbery. 

His  early  training  left  an  impression  on  him.  When  his  associa- 
tion with  criminals  is  spoken  of,  it  does  not  mean  that  he  was  con- 
stantly with  the  men  who  were  enriched  by  his  ability  to  plan 
raids  upon  property,  or  that  they  were  his  only  companions.  He 
was  always  well-dressed,  had  a taste  for  the  fin$  arts,  was  some- 
what of  a bibliomaniac,  loved  the  stage  not  simply  for  the  amuse- 
ment it  afforded  him,  but  to  gratify  his  critical  disposition ; and 
many  men,  prominent  in  respectable  society,  knew  him  more  or 
less  intimately  as  a man  about  town,  seen  at  theatres,  opening  of 
Academy  exhibitions,  poring  over  stands  in  book-stores,  and  as  a 
frequenter  of  all  libraries  to  which  access  could  be  had.  His  ex- 
terior and  bearing  were  those  of  a dilettante  and  business  man.  He 
was  somewhat  short  of  stature,  but  robust,  with  a clean-cut,  hand- 


PHILADELPHIA  HIS  HEADQUARTERS.  27 1 

some  face.  Patronizing  only  the  best  and  most  fashionable  tailors 
and  haberdashers  he  always  appeared  to  advantage.  Certainly  in 
this  city  he  lived  a double  life.  Many  men  yet  live  who  remember 
him  as  an  enigma.  They  had  met  him  under  circumstances  which 
precluded  any  doubt  of  his  respectability.  Of  course,  in  his  role  as 
a first-class  criminal,  he  did  not  neglect  to  associate  and  ingratiate 
himself  with  such  of  the  detective  fraternity  as  might  injure  or 
help  him. 

There  is  only  one  instance  on  record  of  his  having  fallen  into 
serious  trouble  with  the  police.  This  was  in  1870,  at  Norristown, 
a village  near  Philadelphia.  A plot  had  been  laid  to  rob  a jewel- 
lery store.  It  was  one  of  those  occasions  when  Leslie  found  it 
necessary  to  take  an  active  part  in  the  crime.  His  companion 
was  Gilbert  Yost,  also  known  as  Charles  Howard,  alias  Heard, 
alias  Wilbert.  By  the  veriest  mischance,  probably  due  to  Yost, 
they  were  discovered  just  as  they  were  about  to  enter  the  store, 
and  both  were  captured.  Leslie  was  bailed  by  a woman  who  came 
post-haste  from  Chicago.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  the 
bail  was  estreated.  Yost  was  convicted  and  served  a term  of  two 
years  in  Montgomery  Prison. 

It  happened  that  shortly  before  this,  Leslie  found  it  convenient 
to  make  the  City  of  Philadelphia  his  headquarters.  He  moved 
there  in  a certain  class  of  society,  just  as  he  had  done  in  New 
York.  Of  course,  the  first-class  detective  talent  in  that  city  knew 
just  as  well  who  he  was  as  they  did  the  superintendent  of  police. 
But  this  hidden  knowledge  was  profitable  and  his  identity  was 
kept  a profound  secret  in  expectation  of  prospective  lucrative 
favors.  Thus  he  became  an  inmate  of  No.  508  Locust  Street,  a 
boarding-house  kept  by  Mrs.  Mary  E.  Coath,  the  grass-widow  of  an 
hotel-keeper  whose  domestic  affairs  were  so  involved  that  he  found 
it  expedient  to  make  a bee-line  for  the  Western  mining  regions. 
In  this  boarding-house  Leslie  became  acquainted  with  his  land- 
lady’s daughter,  Mary  Henrietta  Coath,  a very  fascinating,  blue- 
eyed girl  of  fourteen  years,  who  had  been  tenderly  brought  up 
and  well  educated.  She  fell  in  love  with  the  strange,  handsome, 
well-dressed,  courteous  boarder.  His  courtship  was  sincere,  and 
she  married  him  when  she  was  fifteen  years  old,  believing  him  at 
that  time  to  be  an  Internal  Revenue  detective.  Even  while  pay- 
ing attentions  to  the  girl,  however,  he  kept  up  his  criminal  con- 
nections, and  aided  and  advised  in  several  large  burglaries.  The 


272 


BOGUS  POLICEMEN. 


honeymoon  was  hardly  over  when  the  scheme  of  a gang  of  first- 
class  burglars  to  rob  the  South  Kensington  National  Bank  was 
carried  out.  The  burglars  began  operations  by  sending  one  of 
their  number  to  the  bank  in  question  and  informing  the  cashier 
that  a plot  had  been  set  -on  foot  to  rob  the  bank  that  very  night, 
and  it  would  be  best  for  them  to  allow  none  but  officers  in  uni- 
form to  enter  the  premises  after  banking  hours.  This  messenger 
professed  to  have  been  sent  from  police  headquarters.  The 
watchmen  were  put  on  the  qui-vive , and  so  when,  late  on  the  even- 
ing of  February  2,  1871,  men  in  the  police  uniform  knocked  at 
the  door  of  the  bank  and  imparted  the  information  that  they  had 
been  sent  as  an  additional  protection,  they  were  immediately  ad- 
mitted. As  soon  as  the  door  was  closed  one  of  the  men  drew 
from  his  pocket  a bottle  of  whiskey,  and  offered  the  watchmen 
a drink.  The  latter  were — well,-  they  were  watchmen.  One 
of  them  found  tumblers,  and  the  other  drew  a little  ice-water  from 
the  cooler.  Before  these  pleasing  preliminaries  were  completed, 
however,  one  of  the  pretended  policemen  invited  watchman  No. 
1 outside  for  the  purpose  of  identifying  some  suspicious  persons 
who  were  near  by.  The  other  watchman,  “ Old  Murphy,”  re- 
mained inside,  and  was  considerably  startled  by  an  unlooked-for 
occurrence.  Before  he  had  an  opportunity  of  realizing  what 
was  going  on,  he  was  bound  and  gagged  by  the  very  man  who 
had  been  sent  to  the  assistance  of  the  bank.  The  other  watch- 
man with  the  alleged  policeman  knocked,  was  admitted  and  like- 
wise bound  and  gagged.  They  were  completely  powerless.  In 
a few  moments  sufficient  safe-breaking  tools  were  brought  into 
the  bank  by  the  seeming  policemen  to  open  its  vault.  Short  work 
was  made  of  all  obstacles  between  the  burglars  and  the  round 
$ 100,000  in  cash  which  the  safe  contained. 

It  is  to  be  doubted  if  Leslie  did  more  than  survey  the  building, 
locate  the  safe,  estimate  the  force  necessary  to  get  at  the  plunder, 
and  stand  watch  for  the  actual  perpetrators  of  the  robbery,  who 
were  James  McCoy,  “ Tom  ” McCormick,  “ Jim  ” Casey,  “Johnny  ” 
Dobbs,  “Jim  ” Brady,  Harry  Glenn,  “ Ike  ” Marsh  and  “ Jimmie  ” 
Hope,  the  last  named,  Leslie’s  sole  peer,  now  languishing  in  jail  at 
San  Francisco. 

It  is  said  that  Joshua  Taggart,  who  at  this  time  controlled  the  “ op- 
tional intelligence  ” of  the  Philadelphia  detective  force,  was  a friend 
of  Leslie’s.  No  arrests  were  made.  When  it  became  necessary  to 


A wife’s  discovery. 


273 


make  public  the  facts  of  the  robbery,  it  was  jokingly  said  that  the 
car  horses  even  in  Philadelphia  had  been  talking  about  it  twenty- 
four  hours  after  its  commission. 

Leslie  did  not  stop  at  the  Kensington  Bank  robbery.  He  took 
a part  in  April,  1872,  in  the  robbery  of  the  Lycoming  Insurance 
Company,  at  Muncy,  Pennsylvania.  The  “ gang  ” got  away  from 
there  with  only  $30,000,  but  they  improved  upon  that  when,  five 
months  afterwards,  they  made  a raid  on  the  Third  National  Bank 
of  Baltimore  and  secured  $140,000.  Two  months  later  they  levied 
on  the  Saratoga  County  Bank,  of  Waterford,  N.  Y.,  to  the  extent 
of  $300,000.  These  depredations  were  followed  by  the  robbery  of 
John  Brennan’s  jewellery  store,  No.  13  South  Eighth  Street,  Phila- 
delphia, $30,000  ; the  Wellsbro’  Bank,  Pennsylvania,  $90,000  ; and 
the  Milford  (New  Hampshire)  Bank  of  $100,000.  There  is  not 
the  slightest  doubt  that  Leslie  -participated  either  in  the  commis- 
sion or  the  division  of  the  plunder  of  each  of  these  crimes. 

It  was  not  until  late  in  1874  that  Leslie’s  wife  knew  the  real 
character  of  the  man  to  whom  she  was  married.  When  the  rev- 
elation came,  her  infatuation  for  him  was  such  that  she  was  will- 
ing to  share  his  fortunes  as  a confessed  villain.  ’Tis  said  that 
the  discovery  was  made  mainly  through  a dispute  with  the  Phil- 
adelphia detective  talent.  Taggart  thought  that  his  share  of 
Leslie’s  good  fortune  was  not  equal  to  his  appetite  for  hush 
money.  A scheme  was  accordingly  arranged  to  entrap  Leslie. 
He  was  arrested  ; he  promised  to  be  more  generous ; a spoke  was 
put  in  the  wheels  of  justice  and  he  was  given  his  liberty,  to  find 
that  his  wife  was  acquainted  with  his  past  and  prospective  career. 
After  the  discovery  husband  and  wife  went  to  Brooklyn,  N.  Y., 
and  resided  there  in  several  localities  : at  the  Clinton  House  in 
Fulton  Street,  No.  478  Fulton  Street,  and  No.  861  Greene  Ave- 
nue, where  the  Manhattan  Bank  robbery  was  planned.  Then 
they  went  to  Harrison  Street,  Stapleton,  Staten  Island. 

Up  to  this  time,  despite  the  wife’s  knowledge  of  her  husband’s 
business,  her  relations  with  him  had  been  happv.  Leslie  had  ample 
means  at  all  times,  gratified  his  wife’s  every  wish,  was  as  careful  as 
ever  of  living  before  the  world  as  an  honest  man,  and  as  prudent  in 
conducting  his  criminal  schemes.  While  at  Stapleton,  however, 
Mrs.  Leslie  noticed  that  her  husband  had  changed  ; he  often  ap- 
peared pre-occupied,  was  harsh  to  her,  not  liberal  as  heretofore, 
and  often  absented  himself  from  home  for  periods  varying  from  a 


274  DELICATE  AITE^  .'IJNS — CONSEQUENCES. 

few  days  to  several  weeks.  It  is  now  known  that  at  first  his  at- 
tentions were  devoted  to  “ Babe  ” Irving,  sister  of  the  Johnny 
Irving  who  was  killed  by  “John,  the  Mick.”  in  “ Shang  ” Draper’s 
saloon  on  Sixth  Avenue.  In  one  instance  he  spent  several  weeks 
with  “ Babe  ” and  a convivial  party  in  the  Catskills,  neglecting  his 
wife.  Leslie  was  also  enamoured  of  the  wife,  or  mistress,  of 
“ Shang  ” Draper,  and  it  is  probable  that  the  money  he  received 
from  the  syndicate  was  not  all  spent  at  home.  These  liaisons 
completely  changed  his  mode  of  life.  His  proverbial  sagacity  and 
prudence  deserted  him. 

When,  in  'February,  1878,  it  was  planned  to  rob  the  Dexter  Sav- 
ings Bank,  at  Dexter,  Maine,  Leslie  did  what  is  known  as  the 
“ outside  ” work.  In  committing  the  robbery,  which  netted  a very 
small  amount  of  money,  the  cashier,  James  W.  Barron,  had  to  be 
gagged.  The  scheme  was  consummated  on  the  2 2d  of  February, 
1878.  The  burglars,  sneaking  in  through  the  open  door,  sur- 
prised Barron,  who  was  poring  over  his  accounts  late  at  night. 
The  old  cashier  made  such  a determined  resistance  in  defending 
the  property  of  the  bank  and  his  own  person,  that  in  silencing  him 
the  burglars  dealt  with  him  so  roughly  that  he  was  found  dead 
when  the  robbery  was  discovered. 

Leslie  was  completely  unnerved  by  this  murder,  and  hurried  to 
his  wife,  who  was  then  in  Baltimore.  He  told  her  he  was  tired  of 
the  life  he  was  leading,  and  determined  to  end  it.  He  said  he 
had  means  and  proposed  to  go  somewhere  and  do  a legitimate 
business ; open  a cigar  store  in  some  great  city,  and  silence  those 
who  knew  of  his  past  career.  He  left  his  wife  with  the  under- 
standing that  he  was  going  to  Albany,  N.  Y.  This  was  in  April, 
1878.  He  returned  three  weeks  later,  utterly  prostrated  and  ap- 
parently in  terror.  He  said  he  had  made  a mistake,  and  spoke  of 
assassination,  but  very  vaguely.  All  Mrs.  Leslie  inferred  was,  that 
in  some  way  or  other  he  had  got  into  ill-repute  with  his  associates 
in  crime.  When  the  facts  of  the  Dexter  Bank  robbery  came  out 
she  said  she  had  no  doubt  that  Leslie,  unnerved  by  the  murder, 
had  dropped  a hint,  of  which  some  detective  in  his  confidence  had 
made  capital. 

She  saw  him  alive  for  the  last  time  on  the  10th  of  May.  He 
then  gave  her  a small  sum  of  money,  and  told  her  he  had  secreted 
another  sum  in  the  house,  which  might  prove  very  useful  to  her. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  when  Leslie  left  his  wife — they  were  then 


BIRDS  OF  A FEATHER. 


275 


in  Philadelphia— he  went  directly  to  Brooklyn,  to  the  house  No. 
1 01  Lynch  Street,  where  lived  “Shang”  Draper,  Jemmy  Mooney 
and  Gilbert  Yost.  Hard  by,  at  No.  152  Patchen  Avenue,  lived 
“Billy”  Porter  and  “Johnny”  Irving.  There  is  little  less  doubt 
that  two  weeks  afterwards  Leslie  was  murdered  there  by  his  asso- 
ciates, and  his  body  carried  to  Tramps’  Rock,  Yonkers,  where  it 
was  found  as  already  related. 

The  police  having  no  special  interest  in  shielding  those  who 


(From  a Photograph.) 

were  implicated  in  the  crime,  named  “ Shang”  Draper,  “ Billy  ” 
Porter,  “Johnny”  Dobbs,  “ Johnny  ” Irving  and  “Sam”  Perris, 
alias  “Worcester  Sam,”  as  being  concerned  in  it.  The  police  for- 
tified their  theory  by  saying  there  had  been  a quarrel  over  the  di- 
vision of  spoils,  that  Draper  was  jealous  of  Leslie,  that  Irving  was 
opposed  to  him  on  account  of  his  intimacy  with  “ Babe,”  and  that 
Leslie  had  become  “leaky”  in  regard  to  professional  secrets — no- 
tably so  in  the  case  of  the  Dexter  Bank  robbery.  This  theory  of 
the  police  was,  in  a certain  sense,  substantiated.  In  the  first 


276 


A HANDY  WAGON. 


place,  when  the  body  was  found  at  Tramps’  Rock  there  was  straw 
near  it,  and  also  along  the  road  leading  to  the  rock.  It  was  re- 
membered by  a countryman  that  a wagon  (of  which  an  accurate 
description  was  obtained),  drawn  by  a sorrel  horse,  was  seen  in 
the  neighborhood  about  Decoration  Day,  at  which  time  the  body 
must  have  been  placed  where  it  was  found.  One  peculiarity  about 
this  wagon  was  that  wisps  of  straw  were  sticking  out  from  it,  and 


there  was  something  covered  with  straw  on  the  floor  of  the  vehicle. 
This  description  traced  the  wagon  to  the  Astoria  Ferry,  over  it, 
and  thence  towards  Williamsburg,  where  all  trace  of  it  was  lost. 

“ Ed  ” Goodie,  a burglar  associated  with  the  Mandelbaum-Leslie 
clique,  possessed  such  a horse,  and  a wagon  similar  to  the  one  de- 
scribed had  been  used  by  him,  both  in  New  York  and  Brooklyn, 
in  removing  stolen  goods  and  the  furniture  of  members  of  the 
gang.  Moreover,  when,  shortly  afterwards,  a burglary  in  Brooklyn 


“ GENERAL  ALARM.”  277 

was  traced  to  the  inmates  of  the  Patchen  Avenue  house,  and 
thence  to  Lynch  Street,  old  “ Marm  ” Mandelbaum  went  to  the 
latter  place  and  carefully  superintended  the  taking  away  of  a vast 
amount  of  property,  which  included  a valise  ! I was  particularly 
anxious  to  procure  this,  and  while  public  excitement  was  at  its 
height  I sent  out  the  following  “ general  alarm  ” : 

“ Make  inquiries  of  all  persons  having  furnished  rooms  or  apartments  to  let, 
for  a square  sole-leather  trunk,  marked  ‘ G.  L.  H„  Phila.’  If  found,  notify  me 
at  once. 

“G.  W.  Walling.” 


JOHN  IRVING. 
(From  a Photograph.) 


This  trunk,  or  valise,  was  traced  to  Chicago,  and  there  the  trail 
was  lost.  I supposed,  and  had  good  grounds  for  my  belief,  that  it 
contained  securities  in  which  Leslie  had  invested  his  ill-gotten 
gains.  His  wife  estimated  him  to  be  worth  anywhere  from  $40,000 
to  $70,000.  She  never  received  one  penny  of  it. 

Corroborative  testimony  as  to  the  complicity  of  the  men  named 
in  the  murder  was  obtained  by  Detective  Wiggin,  of  Boston,  while 
hunting  up  clews  to  the  killing  of  Cashier  Barron,  at  Dexter.  His 
researches  led  him  to  Yonkers,  where  he  obtained  information 
that  at  the  time  the  body  must  have  been  placed  at  Tramps’  Rock 


278 


the  Murderer. 


“Johnny”  Dobbs  and  “Sam”  Perris  were  seen  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Yonkers.  The  day  after  Leslie’s  body  was  found,  Porter 
and  Irving  disappeared. 

Mrs.  Leslie  was  advised,  of  the  death  of  her  husband  by 
“ Marm  Mandelbaum.  She  came  to  New  York  to  the  funeral 
(the  expenses  of  which  were  borne  by  the  noted  receiver),  was  en- 
tertained by  that  lady,  given  a small  sum  of  money  and  sent  back 
to  Philadelphia.  Just  before  going  she  heard  that  Irving  and 
Porter  had  been  arrested  on  “general  principles”  by  certain  de- 
tectives. She  went  to  the  Tombs  and  saw  them,  but  they  treated 
her  coldly,  as  though  afraid  of  her.  She  paid  another  visit  to 
New  York  some  time  afterwards,  in  order  to  recover  property 
taken  possession  of  by  the  coroner  at  Yonkers,  which  had  been 
found  on  her  husband’s  body.  Again  she  made  Mrs.  Mandel- 
baum’s  house  her  headquarters,  and  there  met  Porter,  who  had 
been  released.  He  treated  her  as  before,  and  sneered  at  her, 
evading  questions  in  regard  to  the  possibility  of  George’s  associ- 
ates having  killed  him.  Porter’s  wife — a shop-girl  in  a Grand 
Street  store — treated  her  as  though  pitying,  yet  dreading  her.  On 
this  occasion,  Mrs.  Mandelbaum  was  “economically”  generous  to 
Mrs.  Leslie. 

Interest  in  the  Leslie  murder  has  waxed  and  waned  since  its 
commission.  At  times  it  has  appeared  as  if  the  secret  would  out; 
at  others  to  be  as  far  from  solution  as  ever.  It  is  said  that  the 
actual  murderer  has  been  often  named.  He  now  occupies  a 
liquor  saloon  on  Sixth  Avenue  under  cover  of  a dummy  proprietor, 
and  his  place  is  the  resort  of  thieves  and  detectives. 

The  operations  of  the  Leslie  gang — composed  of  men  bound  by 
the  strongest  of  ties  to  “Marm  ” Mandelbaum’— in  nine  years,  in 
this  city  alone,  amounted  to  a round  half  million  of  dollars. 
Throughout  the  United  States  their  plunderings  cannot  have  been 
less  than  $7,000,000,  comprising  80  per  cent,  of  all  the  bank  rob- 
beries perpetrated  from  i860  to  the  date  of  Leslie’s  death. 


CHAPTER  XX. 


MOTHER  MANDELBAUM,  THE  QUEEN  OF  FENCES. — THE  OLD  WOMAN’S 
WORD  NEVER  DOUBTED. — THE  HOUSE  IN  CLINTON  STREET. — 
A PATRON  OF  CRIMINALS. — THE  FIRST  MISTAKE. — A DETER- 
MINED DISTRICT  ATTORNEY. — DETECTED. — OF  FFOR  CANADA. — 
A MOTHER  AND  HER  DEAD  DAUGHTER. 

Receivers  of  stolen  goods,  or,  in  thieves’  slang,  “fences,”  are 
numerous  in  New  York.  That  they  are  known  to  the  police  is 
not  of  much  avail.  The  great  trouble  in  convicting  them  is  in  the 
matter  of  identifying  the  goods  they  receive.  Many  robberies  are 
instigated  by  receivers,  and  the  means  for  prosecuting  them  pro- 
vided by  them.  Nor  is  it  simply  the  cost  of  the  jimmy  or  other 
special  tools.  The  criminal  must  live.  Having  spent  the  pro- 
ceeds of  a first  robbery,  the  thief  may,  and  often  does,  become  the 
pensioner  of  the  receiver  until  a new  job  is  planned  and  executed. 
It  takes  money  for  a first-class  thief  to  go  through  a store  prop- 
erly ; and  to  frustrate  watchfulness  the  criminal  must  spend 
money  freely.  A building  must  be  watched  for  days  prior  to  a rob- 
bery, and  its  ins  and  outs  located.  If  fellowship  is  to  be  culti- 
vated with  the  watchman  of  the  building,  sometimes  months  elapse 
before  the  thief  and  the  guardian  are  on  intimate  terms.  Invita- 
tions to  drink  are  continuous.  I have  even  known  women  in  the 
employ  of  burglars  becoming  acquainted  with  the  wives  of  the  watch- 
men of  large  stores,  and  in  time  the  men  were  introduced.  Not  infre- 
quently a horse  and  wagon  must  be  provided.  If  there  is  money 
in  the  job,  money  is  required  to  launch  it,  and  in  all  this  it  is  the 
receiver  who  is  the  financial  backer  of  the  robber.  Affiliations 
between  the  receivers  and  the  criminal  classes  are  constant.  If 
there  were  no  markets  for  stolen  goods,  there  would  be  no  rob- 
beries. The  police  may  be  morally  certain  a person  is  a receiver, 
and  for  years  be  known  to  associate  with  criminals.  In  the  courts, 
when  men  have  been  arrested  for  robberies,  such  receivers  have 
furnished  the  money  necessary  to  defray  the  expenses  of  the  de- 
fence. Goods,  doubtless  stolen,  have  been  traced  to  the  “fence,” 

279 


280 


THE  “ QUEEN  OF  FENCES.” 


and  yet  no  conviction  has  followed.  The  almost  insurmountable 
difficulty  in  obtaining  the  conviction  of  a receiver  lies  in  the  fact 
that  the  major  portion  of  the  goods  in  which  he  deals  cannot  be 
identified.  One  piece  of  silk,  velvet,  cloth,  or  calico,  looks  like 
another  when  it  has  been  stripped  of  its  private  mark,  or  such 
printing  as  may  have  been  on  it  originally.  A merchant  has  been 
robbed  and  his  goods  taken.  The  articles  found  in  the  “ fence’s  ” 
possession  are  brought  into  court,  but  the  merchant  has  sold  many 
of  the  same  kind.  Both  the  thief  and  the  receiver  know  their 
business  perfectly.  Say  a store  has  been  robbed  and  the  goods 
have  been  carried  off  to  a secure  place.  Every  bit  of  silk,  velvet, 
or  cloth,  is  immediately  unwound,  a most  careful  search  is  made  for 
private  marks,  and  all  tickets,  tags,  or  printed  labels  are  de- 
stroyed. The  thief’s  careful  efforts  to  ef- 
face the  identity  of  the  goods  does  not  suf- 
fice a clever  and  cautious  receiver.  If  he 
agrees  to  buy  the  goods  he  is  not  satisfied 
until  he,  too,  has  them  examined  once 
more,  and  then  only  does  he  pay  for  the 
goods.  But  before  the  business  has  come 
^ ? to  this  stage,  a great  deal  of  caution  has 

/ " been  exercised.  It  may  be  dangerous  for 

the  thief  to  sell  the  goods  to  the  receivers 
too  soon  after  the  robbery  ; and  accordingly 
some  months  may  elapse  before  the  trans- 
mother  mandelbaum.  fer  t0  u fence  ” takes  place.  During  the 

(From  a Photograph.)  . . 

interval,  however,  the  receiver  may  deal 
out  some  money  to  the  thieves,,  as  an  advance.  Sometimes  it 
happens  that  the  receiver  has  one  or  several  agents  in  his  employ, 
who  act  as  go-betweens,  or  brokers,  in  “ shady  ” goods.  It  can  be 
understood  readily  how  goods,  coming  from  a robbery  in  New 
York,  may  be  sold  in  Philadelphia  or  Boston,  or  may  be  shipped 
to  a southern  or  western  city  for  disposal  at  auction. 

But  what  of  the  “ Queen  of  Fences  ” ? 

A quarter  of  a century  ago,  William  Mandelbaum  kept  a haber- 
dashery shop  in  this  city.  He  was  a bustling  Israelite,  but  his 
wife,  Frances,  or  Fredericka,  was  his  superior  in  business  capacity. 
They  started  as  dealers  in  the  proceeds  of  robberies  in  a very 
small  way.  The  woman  took  the  lead  in  these  nefarious  transac- 
tions, speedily  acquiring  a knowledge  of  the  machinery  by  which 


TRANSACTIONS  IN  “ COLLATERAL/' 


281 


criminals  are  brought  to  justice.  She  formed  an  acquaintance 
with  those  who  apprehended  rogues  of  all  degrees ; knew  where  the 
wheel  of  justice  could  be  clogged,  and  learned  the  value  of  a little 
money  when  criminals  were  “ in  trouble.”  She  was  a thorough 
business  woman  ; her  husband  was  a nonentity.  He  passed  away 
many  years  ago,  leaving  her  an  adept  in  discovering  where  tact,  cor- 
rect knowledge  and  a little  or  more  money  would  do  the  most  good. 

“ Harm  ” Mandelbaum  was  a wonderful  person;  she  changed 
character  like  a chameleon,  and  was  as  adept  in  her  business  as 
the  best  stock-broker  in  Wall  Street  in  his.  The  best  of  her  days 
were  passed  less  than  fifteen  years  ago.  Her  acquaintance  with 
policemen  and  the  machinery  of  the  law  became  more  and  more 
accurate.  She  knew  the  routine  by  which  the  suspected  persons 
reached  the  grand  jury  as  well  as  the  district  attorney  himself. 
Her  knowledge  of  criminals  was  fully  equal  to  that  of  the  ve- 
nality of  certain  lesser  members  of  the  police  department.  In  a few 
words,  she  established  a “ Bureau  for  the  Prevention  of  Conviction  ” 
of  certain  first-class  criminals. 

Some  enjoyed  her  highest  favor,  others  were  simply  used  to 
make  money.  As  time  went  on,  her  dealings  in  stolen  property 
are  believed  to  have  been  enormous.  She  was  known  not  only 
throughout  the  United  States,  but  in  Canada,  Mexico  and  Europe. 
I am  morally  convinced  that  she  had  transactions  in  stolen  prop- 
erty chiefly  “ collateral,”  which  consists  of  gold,  silver  plate, 
precious  stones,  etc.,  in  all  parts  of  Europe.  She  attained  a repu- 
tation as  a business  woman  whose  honesty  in  criminal  matters 
was  absolute,  by  her  adherence  to  criminal  ethics  so  far  as  they 
regarded  men  who  had  been  graduates  in  the  school  of  house- 
breaking and  shop-lifting,  and  the  promptness  with  which  she  set- 
tled her  accounts  with  them.  And  not  only  this,  she  never  left  a 
criminal  her  creditor.  When  he  was  in  need — caught  flagrante 
delicto , red-handed,  under  circumstances  which  she  could  not  con- 
trol— she  became  his  banker,  and  he  could  draw  on  her  for  sums 
which,  in  her  estimation  of  the  capabilities  of  a first-class  criminal, 
he  could  not  hope  to  repay  within  many  years. 

Her  establishment  in  the  matter  of  receiving  stolen  goods  was 
perfect.  It  is  said  she  paid  a retainer  of  $5000  a year  to  the 
well-known  criminal  lawyers,  Messrs.  Howe  & Hummel. 

The  ramifications  of  her  business  net  were  so  widespread,  her 
ingenuity  as  an  assistant  to  criminals  so  nearly  approached  gemus, 


282 


LOOK  AFTER  THE  LITTLE  THINGS.” 


that  if  a silk  robbery  occurred  in  St.  Louis,  and  the  criminals  were 
known  as  “ belonging  to  Marm  Baum,”  she  always  had  the  first 
choice  of  the  “ swag.” 

At  the  police  court,  the  arrest  of  one  of  her  “ gang  ” was  the 
signal  for  the  instant  appearance  of  one  or  more  of  the  tribe  of 
lawyers  allied  with  her,  and  paid  liberally  for  their  assistance. 
Suspicions  are  not  wanting  that  some  of  the  clerks  who  drew  up 


the  “ informations  ” knew  too  well  the  value  of  English  grammar 
to  neglect  slurring  it  in  her  interests. 

There  were  many  unimportant  and  less  direct  channels  by 
which  cases  reached  the  grand  jury  and  the  district  attorney’s 
office,  but  the  Hon.  Wm.  M.  Tweed’s  advice  in  this  regard — “ look 
after  the  little  things  ” — was  not  disregarded.  Cases  might  be 
mentioned  where  petty  matters  were  so  well  taken  care  of  on  their 
way  from  the  police-court  to  the  district  attorney’s  office  and  the 
grand-jury  room,  that  the  prisoners  escaped  indictment  with  an 


“mu  ruaNK  McCOY. 

(From  a Photograph  in  the  Rogues’  Gallery.) 


A “ BUSINESS  ” CONCERN. 


283 


ease  that  they  marvelled  at  until  the  “ old  woman  ” claimed  the 
credit  for  the  miscarriage  of  justice.  And  no  man  of  that  class 
of  which  she  was  the  head  ever  doubted  her  word. 

Her  methods  were  extraordinarily  simple.  She  kept  what  ap- 
peared to  be  a thriving  dry  goods  and  haberdashery  shop,  at  No. 
79  Clinton  Street.  The  house  was  rated  as  “ fourth  class  ” by  the 
insurance  company,  being  possibly  one-sixth  brick  and  five-sixths 
wood.  It  was  a straggling,  ill-built,  yet  curious  looking  building, 
more  pretentious  at  its  angle  with  Rivington  Street  than  at  any 
other.  This  angle  was  the  business  concern  which  concealed  the 
real  occupation  of  its  owner.  Sprawling  away  from  this  angle 
down  Clinton  Street  was  the  actual  business  part  of  the  establish 
ment.  This  was  a two-story,  clapboarded  wing,  some  twenty-five 
feet  long.  On  the  first  floor  was  one  of  the  best  furnished  apart- 
ments in  this  city,  a room  the  like  of  which  was  not  to  be  found 
anywhere  in  the  region  known  as  Kleine  Deutschland , or  Little 
Germany.  Whether  “ Marm  ” Mandelbaum  intended  to  astonish 
her  clients  by  a display  of  her  wealth,  or  to  show  that  she  lived  in 
a style  befitting  her  position,  cannot  here  be  discussed.  There 
were  chairs  which  would  have  attracted  the  cupidity  of  an  anti- 
quarian ; a massive  mahogany  sideboard,  and  on  it  a magnificent 
display  of  silverware,  such  as  would  have  been  rated  as  “ A 1 
swag  ” had  a “ client  ” of  the  old  woman  called  on  her  to  dispose 
of  it. 

On  the  shelves  of  the  store  where  the  ostensible  business  of  the 
concern  was  conducted  were  displayed  the  usual  assortment  of 
dry  goods  suitable  to  the  needs  of  the  neighborhood.  The  at- 
tendants were  usually  Mrs.  Mandelbaum  (the  presiding  deity),  one 
of  her  two  daughters,  a hired  shop-woman,  and  the  successor  to 
the  Hon.  William  Mandelbaum  (her  late  and  lamented  spouse), 
Hermann  Steid,  a stalwart  looking  man,  with  curling  blonde  hair. 
Mrs.  Mandelbaum,  thanks  to  her  business  capacity,  could  have 
easily  earned  an  excellent  living  simply  by  keeping  a dry  goods 
establishment.  She  preferred  “ minting  ” money  by  dealing  with 
thieves. 

Right  here  a glance  at  the  proprietress  of  the  store  will  not  be 
out  of  place.  She  was  a woman  above  the  middle  height,  suffi- 
ciently corpulent  to  be  easily  caricatured,  who  never,  possibly, 
had  enough  of  coquetry  to  indulge  in  corsets,  with  a large  mouth 
and  thick  lips.  But  she  was  shrewd,  careful,  methodical  in  char- 


284 


HOW  THE  “SWAG”  WAS  “PLANTED.”  285 

acter,  and  to  the  point  in  speech.  Wary  in  the  extreme,  she  never 
admitted  any  one  unknown  to  her  and  unvouched  for  beyond  the 
precincts  of  the  little  dry  goods  store.  Once  the  entree  given  by 
a hint,  note  or  personal  recommendation  from  any  one  she  de- 
pended on,  and  the  little  wing  of  her  establishment  was  wide  open 
to  him  or  her. 

Passing  from  the  store  to  the  real  office  of  the  concern  was  a 
dumb-waiter  let  into  the  wall. 

“ Marm  ” Mandelbaum’s  methods  grew  bolder  as  her  reputation 


MICHAEL  KURTZ,  alias  “ SHEENEY  MIKE.” 
(From  a Photograph  when  under  Duress.) 


increased.  The  majority  of  her  transactions  were  conducted  by 
correspondence,  or  through  messengers.  It  is  almost  certain  that 
within  the  last  ten  years  of  her  life  in  New  York  she  rarely  re- 
ceived stolen  property  in  bulk  at  her  Clinton  Street  shop.  Sup- 
pose, for  instance,  there  had  been  a robbery  of  silk  in  the  city. 
The  “swag”  would  be  first  “planted”  (stored).  A messenger 
would  call  on  her,  and  she  would  send  a trusted  agent  to  examine 
the  goods  thoroughly  and  report  to  her. 

She  would  estimate  their  value  to  her,  make  an  offer,  haggle 
enough  to  satisfy  her  race  instinct,  pay  cash  for  the  “ stuff,”  take 


286 


SILK  WAS  HER  SPECIALTY. 


the  risk  of  shipping  it  or  secreting  it  elsewhere,  and  afterwards 
make  arrangements  for  its  disposal  at  a profit. 

In  the  case  of  what  is  known  as  “ collateral,”  she  usually  trans- 
acted business  at  home,  first  having  obtained  from  the  thief  a 
good  description  and  inventory  of  the  plunder.  She  then  made 
an  appointment  elsewhere  for  appraisement  and  settlement  of  the 
matter. 

Her  interest  in  professional  criminals  of  a certain  class  has 
been  spoken  of  elsewhere.  It  was  far  reaching.  She  has  sent 
money  to  defend  a man  “ in  hock  ” to  the  uttermost  parts  of  the 
United  States,  and,  in  several  instances,  to  Canada  and  Europe. 
Not  only  has  she  sent  money  for  the  defence  of  criminals,  but, 
aware  of  the  objects  of  their  trips  abroad,  on  receipt  of  informa- 
tion that  their  operations  were  delayed  by  want  of  funds,  she  has 
promptly  sent  out  generous  letters  of  credit.  Among  those  who 
were  especially  favored  by  her  were : First,  last,  and  all  the  time, 
the  champion  burglar  of  America,  Michael  Kurtz,  alias  “ Sheeney 
Mike”;  “Billy”  O’Brien,  alias  “Billy”  Porter;  “Jim”  Brady, 
“ Shang  ” Draper,  “ Red  ” Leary,  “ Big  Frank  ” McCoy,  “ Jimmy  ” 
Wilmot,  “Jimmy”  Hope,  “Ed”  Goodie,  “Jim”  Casey,  “Joe” 
Dollard,  “ Johnny  ” Dobbs,  “Sam”  Perris,  “Jimmy”  Dunlap, 
Oscar  Decker,  “ Tom  ” McCormick,  “ Piano  Charley,”  “ Pete  ” 
Emerson,  “Billy”  McKay,  “Pete”  Curley,  “Bill”  Connors, 
“Jack”  Rand,  “Ike”  Marsh,  and  a host  of  smaller  fry. 

But  “ Marm  ” Mandelbaum  had  to  come  to  grief  sometimes. 
Twelve  years  ago  there  was  an  awkward  inquiry  about  the  rob- 
bery of  $12,000  worth  of  silk  (her  specialty).  The  losers  by 
the  theft — prominent  merchants — were  not  to  be  placated  by  any 
sophistries.  They  would  have  spent  the  whole  capital  of  the  firm 
in  convicting  either  the  thieves  or  the  receiver.  But  despite  all 
efforts  in  the  interests  of  justice,  Mrs.  Mandelbaum  came  safely 
out  of  the  ordeal,  although  arrested  as  nearly  red-handed  as  it  was 
possible  for  a receiver  of  stolen  goods  to  be.  She  was  not  con- 
victed. 

And  here  I must  say  that  the  higher  officials  of  the  police  force 
were  most  active  in  the  attempt  to  convict  her.  She  was  watched 
on  all  sides,  and  it  was  only  her  great  cunning  and  shrewdness 
that  enabled  her  to  continue  her  nefarious  business  for  such  a 
length  of  time. 

She  had  not  been  without  anxiety.  Nothing  disturbed  her  so 


HOW  SHE  WAS  CAUGHT. 


287 


much  as  the  “ fuss,”  as  she  termed  it,  which  was  made  about  the 
murder  of  George  Leonidas  Leslie.  She  got  out  of  the  scrape  at 
a cost  of  (it  is  believed)  not  less  than  $12,000. 

Her  next  great  trouble  came  to  her  through  the'  well-meaning 
and  active,  but,  owing  to  circumstances,  almost  impotent  district 
attorney,  Peter  B.  Olney.  Mr.  Olney  undoubtedly  took  the  utmost 
aggressive  interest  in  “Mother”  Mandelbaum’s  affairs.  If  his 
private  utterances  are  to  be  believed,  and  there  has  never  been, 
among  respectable  persons,  a doubt  in  this  regard,  he  thought  that 
the  existence  of  a woman  who  by  various  means  had  been  enabled 
to  control  the  most  dangerous  and  wealthy  criminal  interests  of 
America,  was  a burning  shame.  He  employed  the  Pinkerton 
agency,  in  order  to  discover  a plan  by  which  either  the  woman  might 
be  brought  to  justice  or  her  business  broken  up.  Special  officers, 
detailed  to  watch  her,  visited  her  place  in  the  guise  of  petty  thieves. 
Gradually  they  obtained  her  confidence.  Others  were  detailed  to 
purchase  goods  from  her  by  representing  that  they  wanted  to  drive 
a hard  bargain  in  stolen  goods,  knowing  that  she  was  the  right 
person  to  whom  to  apply.  Accordingly,  on  the  one  hand  they  ob- 
tained absolute  proof  that  “ Mother  ” Mandelbaum  bought  “ stuff  ” 
from  persons  who  represented  that  they  had  obtained  it  by  criminal 
means,  and  on  the  other  hand  they  were  assured  that  she  sold 
goods  at  less  than  cost  price,  which  she  said  had  been  obtained 
feloniously.  In  the  latter  instance  the  detectives  were  able  to 
corner  her.  - 

Among  the  goods  sold  were  pieces  of  silk  which  had  been  stolen, 
and  on  them  were  certain  marks  by  which  they  could  be  recog- 
nized. These  goods,  purchased  by  one  of  Pinkerton's  “ operatives,” 
were  identified  by  Jas.  A.  Hearn  & Son,  of  West  Fourteenth 
Street,  and  Messrs.  Simpson,  Crawford  & Simpson.  And  so  it 
came  about  that  on  the  226.  of  July,  1884,  Mr.  Olney  had  so  far 
perfected  his  case  against  Mrs.  Mandelbaum  that  he  ordered  her 
arrest.  She  was  arraigned  in  the  Harlem  Police  Court.  As  was 
to  be  expected,  the  prosecution  encountered  a tremendous  array 
of  the  best  criminal  talent  of  the  New  York  bar,  and  a big  fight 
was  made  through  the  many  agencies  she  controlled  in  her  behalf. 
Her  son  Julius  and  Hermann  Steid  were  arrested  with  her. 

“ Marm  ” Mandelbaum  got  the  worst  of  the  fight.  She  appre. 
ciated  this  fact  on  December  4,  1884,  when,  seeing  that  a convic- 
tion was  made  inevitable,  she  made  the  best  of  her  way  to  Canada. 


GEO.  MASON,  alias  OSCAR  DECKER,  BURGLAR,  No.  1027. 
(From  a Photograph  taken  under  Duress.) 


288 


MOTHERLY  INSTINCTS. 


289 


Her  bondsman,  George  Speckhardt,  of  No.  161  Rivington  Street, 
who  had  become  surety  for  her  appearance  before  the  grand  jury 
in  the  sum  of  $3000,  was  a loser  of  that  amount. 

Mrs.  Mandelbaum  selected  Toronto  as  her  residence,  and  four 
days  after  her  arrival  there,  was  arrested  by  the  Canadian  author- 
ities, but  was  as  promptly  released. 

Since  her  flight  from  New  York  Mrs.  Mandelbaum  has  lived 
quietly  in  Canada.  Her  exile  has  been  cheered  by  frequent  visits 
from  emissaries  of  her  council,  and  saddened  by  the  intelligence  of 
the  death  of  her  younger  daughter.  It  is  asserted,  and  the  fact 
has  never  been  contradicted,  that  when  the  unfortunate  and 
beautiful  girl  died,  the  motherly  instincts  of  Mrs.  Mandelbaum 
were  so  excited,  that,  braving  arrest,  she  left  Canada  in  disguise 
and  travelled  by  a circuitous  route — from  Montreal  to  Rouse’s 
Point,  then  by  the  Rome,  Watertown  and  Ogdensburg  Railroad 
to  Utica,  thence  by  private  conveyance  to  the  Erie  Road — to  New 
York.  She  dared  not  follow  the  body  to  the  grave,  but  saw  the 
funeral  on  its  way  and  immediately  went  back  to  her  forced  home 
in  Canada. 

It  is  estimated  that  despite  her  misfortunes,  lawyers’  fees,  loss  of 
“ business,”  and  a sojourn  in  a country  where  every  fugitive,  once 
spotted,  is  considered  fair  material  for  “ bleeding,”  “ Mann  ” 
Mandelbaum  can  command  at  least  $125,000.  She  has  told  per- 
sons who  have  seen  her  in  the  “land  of  the  bank  cashier”  that 
she  would  gladly  forfeit  every  penny  of  her  wealth  in  order  to  once 
more  breathe  freely  the  atmosphere  of  the  Thirteenth  Ward. 

As  a woman  and  a mother  she  is  spoken  of  with  respect.  Her 
family  consisted  of  two  sons  and  two  daughters.  Of  the  boys,  one 
clung  to  her  as  her  alter  ego.  The  other  is  a respectable  citizen. 
Of  the  daughters,  one,  as  beautiful  a girl  as  any  of  her  race  in  this 
city,  died  just  as  she  came  to  know  what  her  mother  really  was. 
The  other,  strangely  enough,  is  married  to  a private  detective. 
This  daughter  was  so.  deeply  interested  in  the  shadowy  part  of  her 
mother’s  “ business  ” transactions,  that  when  times  became  threat- 
ening she  took  apartments  within  a block  of  the  store,  with  the  in- 
tention of  receiving  such  “informers  ” as  her  parent  could  not  con- 
veniently see,  and  to  watch  prowlers  who  might  be  investigating 
the  “business”  of  the  little  store  at  Clinton  and  Rivington  streets. 

As  a receiver  of  stolen  goods,  “ Marm  ” Mandelbaum  had  no 
peer  in  the  United  States.  In  New  York,  the  shop  of  the  great 
19 


” MANDEERAUM’S  DINNER-PARTY. 


ARISTOCRATIC  DINNER-PARTIES. 


29I 

Grady  was  simply  an  annex  of  the  Clinton  Street  establishment. 
He  dealt  mainly  in  collateral  of  which  Mrs.  Mandelbaum  found  it 
inconvenient  to  dispose,  and  considered  dangerous  to  have  in  her 
possession. 

Madame  Mandelbaum’s  favorite  article  of  plunder  was  silk. 
Next  of  importance,  in  her  estimation,  came  gold  and  silverware. 
Then  ranked  the  miscellaneous  booty  resulting  from  a burglarious 
or  shop-lifting  excursion  in  a dry  goods  store,  such  as  laces,  gloves, 
etc.  Her  first  care  was  to  look  for  trade-marks,  and  in  this  branch 
of  her  calling  she  was  very  expert.  Labels  and  tags,  of  course, 
were  immediately  removed.  Private  marks  were  also  searched 
for.  Now  and  then  she  dealt  in  stolen  bonds,  having  a safe  out- 
let for  such  things  among  a certain  class  of  brokers,  who  for  a 
large  percentage  would  deal  in  securities  whose  ownership  was 
doubtful. 

Mrs.  Mandelbaum  depleted  her  income  in  good  living.  She  had 
a cellar  of  choice  wines  and  liquors  and  was  a liberal  patron  of  the 
local  synagogue,  of  which  she  was  considered  a consistent  member. 
In  the  winter  she  frequently  gave  entertainments  to  thieves  of 
both  sexes  and  outside  friends,  and  the  receptions  were  conducted 
with  as  much  attention  to  the  proprieties  of  society  as  though  Mrs. 
Mandelbaum’s  establishment  was  in  Fifth  Avenue  instead  of  in  a 
suspicious  corner  of  the  East  Side. 


CHAPTER  XXL 


ESCAPES  FROM  PRISON. — THE  STRANGE  WOMAN  IN  BLACK  WHO 
WALKED  OUT  OF  THE  TOMBS. — THE  BANK  BURGLAR’S  SWEET- 
HEART.  “ YOUR  TICKET,  PLEASE.” THE  MAN  WHO  SOAPED 

HIS  BODY  AND  WRIGGLED  THROUGH  A HOLE. — DESPERATE  FIGHT 

IN  A BOWERY  BEER  SALOON. A BOLD  LEAP  FOR  LIBERTY. — THE 

STRANGE  MAN  ON  DE  KALB  AVENUE  WITH  TWO  COATS. THE 

WAX  IMPRESSION  FOUND  IN  LONG  MARY’S  ROOM.  — “ RED 
LEARY’S  ESCAPED  ! ” 

A young  and  pretty  girl  was  standing  on  the  sidewalk  in  front  of 
the  iron  gate  which  admits  visitors  to  the  Tombs  prison,  on  the 
morning  of  November  19,  1873,  waiting  for  the  keeper  to  un- 
fasten the  lock  and  allow  friends  of  the  prisoners  to  enter.  When 
ten  o’clock  came  the  heavy  gate  swung  open,  and  the  throng  out- 
side passed  in.  One,  at  least,  this  same  young  and  pretty  girl,  was 
well  known  to  the  keepers.  Her  beautiful  face  appealed  to  their 
sensibilities,  and  perhaps  as  she  stood  before  them  they  did  not 
perform  their  duty  of  searching  her  as  thoroughly  as  they  might 
have.  At  any  rate,  she  received  her  ticket  and  passed  by  the 
keepers  until  she  had  reached  cell  No;  40.  Here  she  stopped, 
and  peered  between  the  iron  gratings.  He  whom  she  had  come 
to  see  stepped  forward  quickly,  and  the  meeting  of  the  prisoner 
and  his  visitor  was  cordial.  The  cell  was  richly  fitted  up  and  the 
occupant  evidently  was  not  leading  a very  restricted  life. 

The  man  in  the  cell  was  William  J.  Sharkey;  the  woman  out- 
side was  Maggie  Jourdan.  Sharkey  had  been  a pickpocket,  a 
gambler,  a notorious  bank  burglar,  a politician  of  no  mean  influ- 
ence, and  the  murderer  of  Robert  S.  Dunn.  For  this  last  crime 
he  had  been  tried  and  found  guilty.  While  awaiting  his  sentence 
a stay  of  proceedings  was  granted,  but  the  arguments  on  the  case 
had  not  been  heard  when  Maggie  Jourdan,  the  criminal’s  sweet- 
heart, walked  into  the  Tombs  on  that  November  morning. 

If  the  keeper  who  was  at  the  door  when  Maggie  Jourdan  en- 
tered and  was  given  her  ticket  of  exit  had  searched  this  bright 

293 


A FEMALE  IMPERSONATOR. 


293 


young  woman  more  thoroughly,  he  might  have  discovered  that  she 
carried  on  her  person,  not  one  set  of  raiment,  but  two.  But  the 
keeper  did  not  notice  this,  so  Sharkey’s  sweetheart  brought  up  to 
his  cell  a woman’s  complete  outfit,  which,  as  soon  as  she  could  get 
from  her  person,  he  put  on  his.  To  make  him  look  more  feminine 
he  shaved  off  his  mustache.  At  last  the  disguise  was  complete. 
He  took  the  key  which  Maggie  held  closely  in  her  hands  and 


WM.  J.  SHARKEY. 

(From  a Photograph.) 

found  that  the  lock  worked  perfectly.  At  one  o’clock  Maggie  left 
him  and  walked  out  of  the  prison. 

It  was  scarcely  a half  hour  after  Maggie  Jourdan  had  passed 
out  that  another  woman  came  from  the  prison  corridors,  and  giving 
up  the  usual  visitor’s  ticket  was  allowed  by  Keeper  Phillips  to 
walk  out  without  molestation  or  undue  scrutiny.  This  second 
woman  was  dressed  in  a dark  woollen  dress,  black  cloak,  and  an 
Alpine  hat.  She  wore  a thick  green  veil,  which  she  kept  close  to 
her  face.  She  was  large  and  rather  masculine  in  appearance.  An 
hour  later,  Mrs.  “ Wes  ” Allen,  a sister-in-law  of  “ The  ” Allen 


294 


WITH  A GREEN  VEIL. 


whose  husband  was  in  the  Tombs,  attempted  to  pass  Keeper  Ken- 
nedy who  was  then  at  the  door. 

“ Your  ticket,  please,”  Kennedy  remarked,  as  he  looked  at  the 
woman. 

The  latter  stopped,  put  her  hand  in  her  dress  pocket,  and  after 
fumbling  about  her  clothing  for  a moment,  exclaimed  : 

“ Why,  I must  have  lost  it.  I’m  sure  I put  it  in  my  pocket ! ” 

But  Keeper  Kennedy  was  not  to  be  moved  by  such  an  excuse 
as  that,  and  Mrs.  Allen  did  not  make  her  exit  from  the  prison  that 
morning  as  soon  as  she  expected,  for  she  was  at  once  put  in 
care  of  the  officer,  while  an  alarm  was  given  and  the  cells  were 
searched.  When  the  investigating  officers  had  reached  cell  No. 
40,  they  discovered  that  its  occupant  was  not  there.  The  door 
was  unlocked,  and  Sharkey’s  clothing  lay  on  the  floor.  On  a little 
shelf  were  found  some  locks  of  hair  which  were  supposed  to  be 
the  remains  of  the  murderer’s  mustache.  The  whole  thing  was 
clear  enough  now.  The  masculine-appearing  creature  who  had 
walked  past  the  keeper  with  her  green  veil  drawn  tightly  over  her 
face  was  none  other  than  William  J.  Sharkey,  the  pickpocket, 
politician,  burglar  and  murderer,  the  one  man  of  all  who  were 
then  in  the  Tombs  that  should  have  been  constantly  watched. 

To  say  that  there  was  excitement  in  that  gloomy  old  building  is 
expressing  it  mildly.  Of  course  the  police  were  at  once  notified 
and  began  work  on  the  case.  Mrs.  “ Wes  ” Allen  was  arrested 
for  complicity  in  the  escape,  but  was  afterwards  discharged,  as  no 
actual  proof  could  be  secured  against  her.  The  same  was  true  of 
Keeper  Phillips.  On  Maggie  Jourdan  something  stronger  than 
suspicion  rested.  It  was  discovered  that  previous  to  the  day  of 
Sharkey’s  escape  she  had  taken  an  impression  in  wax  of  the  lock 
on  her  lover’s  cell,  and,  assisted  by  Sharkey’s  confederates  outside 
the  prison,  had  managed  to  have  a key  made.  The  first  key  tried 
would  not  move  the  lock,  but  the  second  worked  successfully. 
Maggie  was  arrested  and  tried  on  the  charge  of  helping  Sharkey 
to  escape,  but  although  everybody  believed  her  guilty  the  jury 
failed  to  agree  upon  a verdict,  and  the  girl  was  set  at  liberty. 
Her  boldness  in  assisting  Sharkey  was  universally  wondered  at. 
The  fact  was  that  she  was  deeply  infatuated  with  the  man.  He 
had  a pleasing  appearance,  and  was  undoubtedly  fascinating  to  cer- 
tain persons.  Her  devotion  to  him  was  constant.  She  visited 
him  every  day  in  prison,  and  after  his  escape,  while  she  herself 


ESCAPE  OF  SHARKEY. 


295 


296  ESCAPING  FROM  THE  TOMBS. 

was  in  custody  and  knew  her  lover’s  whereabouts,  she  did  nor  said 
nothing  by  which  the  police  could  guess  where  he  was. 

In  fact  it  is  not  known  to  this  day  where  Sharkey  went  directly 
after  his  escape.  It  is  pretty  certain  that  he  remained  in  New 
York  for  three  or  four  weeks,  but  he  managed  very  shrewdly  to 
elude  the  detectives  who  were  after  him.  When  at  last  he  did 
leave  New  York,  it  was  on  a small  schooner  bound  for  Baracoa, 
Cuba.  From  Baracoa  he  went  to  Havana,  where  two  years  later 
he  was  joined  by  Maggie  Jourdan,  whose  affection  had  not  dwin- 
dled in  spite  of  time  and  separation.  The  girl’s  devotion,  however, 
was  but  poorly  rewarded.  With  base  ingratitude  he  soon  began 
to  ill-use  her.  To  his  harsh  treatment  she  at  first  submitted,  but 
when  it  continued  day  after  day  her  infatuation  ceased,  and  indig- 
nant at  Sharkey’s  insults  she  left  the  man  for  whom  she  had 
perilled  so  much,  and  returned  to  New  York. 

There  is  something  daring  in  an  escape  from  prison  that  ap- 
peals to  popular  interest.  Here  are  gigantic  walls,  massive  iron 
bars,  complex  locks,  all  built  and  put  together  with  the  greatest 
ingenuity  and  skill,  and  with  the  express  purpose  of  preventing 
escapes';  and  yet  here  is  a shrewd  prisoner  who  has  been  success- 
ful in  defying  them  all.  It  is  not  strange  that  people  want  to 
know  how  he  did  it.  As  a general  thing  they  are  far  more  inter- 
ested in  a clever  escape  than  they  are  in  a dexterous  burglary,  or 
even  in  a murder.  With  the  great  caution  which  is  exercised  in  our 
prisons  it  must  be  a bold  mind  which  would  even  think  of  trying  to 
escape.  But  to  succeed  in  breaking  through  bars  and  eluding  the 
watchful  eyes  of  keepers  displays  cunning  and  ability  of  no  mean 
order.  To  the  credit  of  the  men  who  have  had  charge  of  the 
Tombs  prison  be  it  said  there  have  been  in  the  last  thirty-five  years 
only  twenty-eight  escapes  from  that  place  of  confinement. 

The  first  of  these  of  which  we  have  any  record  is  that  of  Henry 
A.  Clark,  who  managed  in  some  way  to  break  out  on  December 
21,  1851.  We  have  no  details  as  to  his  manner  of  escaping. 
There  were  two  escapes  during  the  following  year:  James  Hamp- 
ton leaped  through  a window  in  the  court-room,  and  Robert  Green, 
who  was  imprisoned  on  a charge  of  grand  larceny,  got  out  of  his 
cell  on  the  second  tier,  and  surrendering  a forged  ticket  at  the 
keeper’s  gate  walked  quietly  out  into  the  air  and  freedom. 

At  four  o’clock  on  the  afternoon  of  April  11,  1859,  six  boys, 
named  Bartholomew  Upton,  Edward  Upton,  Peter  McCann,  Fred- 


SOAPED  FROM  HEAD  TO  FOOT.  297 

erick  Lowe,  Thomas  Flynn  and  John  Mahoney  crawled  through  a 
window  on  the  Franklin  Street  side  of  the  prison.  There  were 
some  laboring  men  near  by  who  watched  the  escape,  but  gave  no 
alarm.  The  boys  got  safely  away  and  were  never  re-captured.  A 
shrewd  trick  was  played  by  Henry  Hawk,  a noted  burglar,  who 
made  his  escape  in  July,  i860.  When  the  names  of  prisoners  who 
were  to  be  discharged  were  called,  he  walked  boldly  up  and  out. 

An  escape  which  ranks  with  that  of  Sharkey  was  made  on  Sep- 
tember 19,  1863.  The  prisoner  was  Conrad  Smith,  alias  Schrader. 
With  two  other  prisoners  he  was  confined  in  a cell  on  the  second 
tier.  Assisted  by  them  he  removed  the  iron  lintel  under  the  win- 
dow, leaving  an  aperture  twenty-nine  inches  long  and  six  and  a 
quarter  inches  broad.  When  this  had  been  done  he  soaped  him- 
self from  head  to  foot,  and  then  managed  to  wriggle  through  the 
small  space.  He  dropped  to  the  ground  below,  and  from  there 
climbed  to  the  roof  of  the  cook-house,  which  was  in  the  rear  of  the 
prison.  The  top  of  the  outer  wall  was  thirty  feet  from  where  he 
stood,  but  in  some  way  he  got  upon  it  and  then  jumped  to  the  street 
— a free  man.  He  went  immediately  among  his  “ pals,”  who  kept 
him  secreted  for  a month.  At  the  end  of  that  time,  however,  the 
police  found  him  in  a Bowery  lager  beer  saloon,  and  attempted  to 
arrest  him.  But  Smith  resisted.  He  did  not  care  to  go  back  to 
prison  and  was  willing  to  fight  for  his  liberty.  It  was  only  after  a 
desperate  encounter  that  he  was  re-captured. 

In  1879  there  was  a very  bold  escape  of  a man  who  had  been 
imprisoned  on  a slight  charge  of  disorderly  conduct.  Dennis  Sul- 
livan, while  waiting  in  the  prisoners’  pen  at  the  Tombs  police- 
court  for  his  turn  to  be  arraigned,  suddenly  vaulted  over  the  rail- 
ing, sprang  to  the  open  window  near  by,  and  leaped  through  to  the 
street  beneath.  The  thing  was  all  done  with  such  dexterity  of 
movement  that  none  of  the  numerous  policemen  in  the  court-room 
could  interfere.  Indeed  there  was  one  policeman  within  four  feet 
of  the  window,  and  although  he  jumped  to  catch  the  escaping  pris- 
oner, he  had  the  pleasure  only  of  seeing  the  latter’s  coat-tails  dis- 
appear through  his  fingers.  The  crowd  of  persons  who  frequent 
the  court-room  were  greatly  excited.  In  spite  of  the  efforts  of  the 
judge  to  preserve  the  dignity  of  the  court,  there  was  a rush  of 
spectators  to  the  doors  and  great  consternation  among  the  officers 
on  duty.  At  least  twenty  policemen  started  in  pursuit  of  the  fu- 
gitive. He  ran  from  Centre  Street  through  Mulberry,  and  from 


298 


u theyVe  got  out  ! 


there  to  Bayard  Street.  Here  he  was  lost  sight  of  and  has  never 
been  seen  since. 

It  was  early  in  the  morning,  but  broad  daylight,  on  June  1,  18791 
when  “Billy’’  Porter  and  John  Irving  turned  their  backs  upon 
Raymond  Street  Jail,  Brooklyn,  where  they  had  been  deprived  of 
their  liberty  for  the  last  ten  months.  They  had  the  “ run  ” of  one 
of  the  corridors,  and  were  in  the  habit,  between  six  and  seven 
o’clock  in  the  morning,  to  pass  down  to  the  kitchen  and  get  their 
cups  filled  with  coffee.  Porter  and  Irving  rose  a little  earlier  than 
their  fellow-prisoners  on  that  eventful  morning.  The  two  cooks 
who  were  in  the  kitchen  were  not  at  all  surprised  when  the  notori- 
ous criminals  entered  with  cups  in  hand.  But  when  they  put 
down  their  cups  on  the  table,  and  walked  boldly  across  the  kitchen 
and  up  the  stairway  leading  to  the  jail-yard,  then  the  cooks  were 
struck  dumb  with  amazement  and  raised  neither  hand  nor  voice  to 
prevent  the  escape. 

Having  reached  the  jail-yard,  Irving  and  Porter  walked  boldly 
across  and  entered  the  stable-yards.  There  were  some  men  at 
work  here,  but  just  as  the  two  convicts  entered  the  yard  the  atten- 
tion of  the  laborers  was  diverted  by  heavy  knocking  outside  the 
wall.  So  believing  themselves  unseen  by  the  men,  Irving  and 
Porter  stepped  stealthily  across  the  stable-yard  to  some  excava- 
tions which  were  making  in  the  wall.  Through  these  they  crawled 
and  were  soon  outside  the  jail  limits,  and  in  the  adjoining  grounds 
of  the  city  hospital. 

But  some  one  after  all  did  observe  the  transit  of  the  convicts 
across  the  stable-yard.  This  person  was  John  Cassin,  one  of  the 
men  who  were  employed  in  the  yard.  He  ran  at  once  to  Keeper 
Joseph  Evans  and  exclaimed: 

“ They’ve  got  out ! ” 

“ Who  ? ” asked  the  keeper,  all  excitement. 

“ Irving  and  Porter,”  gasped  the  man,  whose  breath  had  been 
exhausted  by  his  hasty  run. 

This  intelligence  was  enough  to  send  a dozen  fears  through 
Evans’s  mind.  He  rapidly  asked  a few  questions  and  then  has- 
tened out  to  Raymond  Street  and  looked  up  and  down  to  see  if  he 
could  see  some  sign  of  the  runaways.  But  he  saw  nothing.  He 
ran  back  into  the  jail  and  told  Warden  Bryan  what  had  happened. 
The  warden  became  excited  too.  He  telegraphed  Sheriff  Riley  at 
the  latter’s  house,  and  sent  out  a general  alarm  to  the  police  head- 


QUESTIONABLE  “ REFORMATION.^  299 

quarters  of  Brooklyn,  New  York  and  adjoining  cities.  From  there 
in  turn  went  out  instructions  to  all  the  precincts  to  watch  for  men 
of  Irving’s  and  Porter’s  description.  Inside  Raymond  Street  Jail 
a search  was  instituted,  and  the  manner  of  the  escape  was  soon 
ascertained.  Subsequent  investigations  revealed  the  fact  that 
after  the  convicts  had  got  outside  the  jail  walls  they  went  immedi- 
ately to  De  Kalb  Avenue,  where  they  were  seen  to  receive  two 
coats  from  a strange  man.  From  here  all  trace  of  them  was  lost, 
and  when  at  last  they  were  re-captured,  it  was  not  for  breaking 
jail,  but  for  worse  offences. 

Porter  and  Irving  belonged  to  what  was  known  as  the  Patchen 
Avenue  gang,  one  of  the  fiercest  which  at  that  time  infested  Brook- 
lyn. They  were  all  notorious  burglars,  but  none  were  better 
known  than  Irving  and  Porter.  The  two  were  close  friends  and 
often  “ buckled  ” together  to  avenge  wrongs  or  insults  which  one 
had  received.  They  were  arrested  on  August  n,  1878,  for  burg- 
lary, and  had  been  in  jail  ten  months  when  they  made  their  escape. 
Porter  had  been  tried  and  found  guilty,  and  was  awaiting  sentence. 
He  had  been  meditating  escape  for  some  time,  and  there  is  reason 
to  think  that  his  delay  in  attempting  it  was  only  from  a hope  that 
he  might  not  be  found  guilty.  When  the  jury’s  verdict  upset  this 
hope  he  was  ready  to  carry  his  plot  into  execution.  There  is  no 
doubt  that  he  and  Irving  were  helped  by  confederates  outside  the 
prison,  and  the  knocking  which  the  laborers  in  the  stable-yard 
heard  outside  the  walls  on  the  morning  of  the  escape  was  doubt- 
less the  work  of  the  convicts’  friends,  who  hoped  thereby  to  divert 
attention  from  the  runaways.  Sheriff  Riley  offered  a reward  of 
$2500  for  the  return  of  the  prisoners,  but  so  far  as  I am  aware  no 
one  ever  secured  the  money.  The  two  men  were  conspicuous  fig- 
ures in  subsequent  crimes  which  startled  the  country.  Irving  met 
his  death  a few  years  later  in  “Shang”  Draper’s  saloon  on  Sixth 
avenue,  at  the  hands  of  John  Walsh.  Porter  was  supposed  to 
have  avenged  his  colleague’s  death  by  killing  Walsh,  but  he  es- 
caped conviction  and  promised  to  lead  a different  sort  of  life  in 
the  future.  How  little  his  reformation  amounted  to  may  be  seen 
when  I add  that  during  the  present  summer  he  was  arrested  for 
robbing  a jewellery  store  in  Troy,  and  having  given  bail  to  the 
amount  of  $ 20,000 , returned  to  his  old  haunts  in  this  city. 

At  dusk  one  night  in  the  autumn  of  1873,  a man  named  Henry 
Smith  and  a woman  named  Lilly  Miller  set  out  from  Tarrytown 


360  Escaping  from  sing  sing. 

in  a small  boat  and  pulled  for  Sing  Sing.  Having  reached  their 
destination  they  got  stealthily  out  of  the  boat,  and  took  with  them 
a large  bag  in  which  was  concealed  something  of  considerable 
weight.  This  they  carried  over  to  the  prison  yard  and  concealed 
in  a lumber  pile.  In  some  inexplicable  way  the  contents  of  this 
bag — which  were  nothing  more  or  less  than  a powerful  jackscrew 
and  some  smaller  tools — reached  gallery  No.  19  in  the  prison, 
where  “Jim”  Brady,  who,  previous  to  his  lodgment  in  Sing  Sing, 
had  been  publicly  flogged  and  sentenced  to  twenty  years’  imprison- 
ment at  Newcastle,  Delaware,  for  burglary,  and  W.  A.  Miller,  a 
notorious  rascal,  were  confined.  One  day  this  illustrious  pair  of 
striped  convicts  walked  out  of  their  cells,  out  of  gallery  No.  19, 
and  with  their  jackscrews  and  other  tools  having  forced  the  iron 
bars  at  the  window  overlooking  the  prison  yard,  squeezed  through 
the  aperture  and  dropped  to  the  ground  beneath.  Having 
reached  the  yard,  escape  was  comparatively  easy. 

There  was  no  little  consternation  when  Miller  and  Brady  were 
missed  from  their  cells.  Keepers  of  course  appeared  as  much 
astonished  as  any  one,  and  everybody  wondered,  first,  how  the  con- 
victs could  have  secured  possession  of  their  tools ; and  second, 
how  they  could  have  obtained  the  keys  which  unfastened  the  doors 
leading  into  the  gallery.  The  mystery  deepened  when  days  and 
weeks  went  by  without  any  light  having  been  shown  on  the  man- 
ner of  the  escape,  and  when  subsequent  sudden  departures  of 
convicts  from  Sing  Sing  seemed  as  easily  accomplished  as  that  of 
Miller  and  Brady.  Among  the  desperate  characters  who  made 
their  way  out  of  the  prison  about  this  time  was  “Jimmy”  Hope, 
the  notorious  burglar,  who  had  suffered  with  Brady  in  Newcastle, 
Delaware,  and  for  the  same  offence.  Others  were  Sophie  Levy, 
W.  C.  Harrison,  Joe  Howard,  and  John  O’Keefe.  Ned  Lyons  and 
his  wife  were  both  imprisoned.  “Ned”  got  out,  but  instead  of 
leaving  the  vicinity  of  Sing  Sing,  he  loitered  near  the  prison,  and 
one  day  drove  into  the  grounds  in  a carriage,  picked  up  his  wife, 
who  was  in  the  female  prison,  and  drove  off  without  interference. 

Such  things  as  these  made  people  think  that  there  was  something 
“rotten”  in  Sing  Sing.  New  Yorkers  began  to  grow  excited 
over  the  number  of  escapes.  The  newspapers  called  loudly  for 
reform  in  the  management,  and  the  department  of  police  came  to 
the  conclusion  that  it  was  time  for  it  to  take  a hand  in  ferreting 
out  the  mystery.  Accordingly,  there  were  put  on  the  case  Captain 


THE  PRISON  KEY. 


3 oi 


Irving  and  detectives  Thomas  Sampson  ai  d Philip  Farley,  of  the 
Central  Office.  These  gentlemen  worked  for  some  time  without 
any  success.  Finally,  by  mere  accident,  they  stumbled  upon  a 
clew.  Mary  Moon,  called  “ Long  Mary,”  was  arrested  on  Febru- 
ary 18,  1874,  for  shop-lifting.  Her  room,  which  was  on  Third 
Avenue  near  Fifty-second  Street,  was  searched  by  the  same  offi- 
cers who  were  engaged  in  the  Sing  Sing  mystery.  They  found 
numerous  articles  which  they  thought  would  help  in  proving  the 
charge  of  shop-lifting  against  the  woman.  Suddenly  one  of  the 
detectives  came  upon  a suspicious-looking  tin  box  which  was 
hidden  in  a bureau  drawer.  The  box  was  taken  out  and  opened. 
Inside,  carefully  wrapped  in  soft  paper,  was  the  wax  impression  of 
a large  key.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  these  officers  were  familiar 
with  the  key  which  unlocked  the  doors  in  gallery  No.  19  at  Sing 
Sing,  and  at  once  they  recognized  in  the  wax  impression  a famil- 
iar shape. 

Of  course  they  lost  no  time  in  confirming  the  suspicion  which  at 
once  entered  their  minds,  that  “ Long  Mary  ” was  an  accomplice 
of  the  jail-birds’  confederates.  They  had  a key  made  according 
to  the  impression,  and  then  went  to  Sing  Sing.  They  saw  Warden 
Hubbell,  who,  although  not  told  of  their  errand,  received  them 
Kindly  and  conducted  them  through  the  prison.  When  the  detec- 
tives reached  gallery  No.  19  they  tried  the  key,  and  found  it  to  be 
a perfect  fit  to  the  lock.  Now  they  had  a definite  clew  to  work 
upon.  Without  telling  the  warden  their  suspicions  they  came 
back  to  New  York  and  proceeded  to  look  up  Long  Mary’s  friends 
in  the  city.  They  found  one,  Henry  Smith,  whom  they  arrested 
on  suspicion.  By  clever  work  they  secured  from  him  a confession 
which  implicated  John  Stelirer,  a German  locksmith,  whose  estab- 
lishment was  at  No.  106  Hester  Street. 

The  next  move  on  the  part  of  the  detectives  was  to  find  out 
all  they  could  from  Steurer.  So  pretending  to  be  burglars  they 
went  to  Steurer’s  shop  one  afternoon,  and  found  him  at  dinner. 
He  left  his  meal  to  see  what  his  visitors  wanted,  but  they  assured 
him  that  they  wished  to  have  a few  words  with  him  in  private  and 
would  wait  until  he  finished  his  dinner.  The  old  German  “tum- 
bled” at  once,  and  chuckling  to  himself  over  securing  more  valu- 
able customers  went  back  to  his  sauerkraut.  He  soon  returned 
to  the  basement  where  his  shop  was  and  asked  the  men  what  he 
could  do  for  them.  The  detectives  tried  a “bluff”  game  on  him. 


3°  2 


FORCING  A CONFESSION. 


They  began  to  upbraid  him  for  selling  them  such  poor  tools 
recently. 

“Why,  that  jackscrew  was  good  for  nothing,”  said  Detective 
Farley. 

The  old  fellow  had  no  doubt  now,  if  he  had  been  suspicious  at 
all,  that  his  visitors  were  men  whom  he  had  previously  worked 
for  through  third  persons,  and  he  began  to  beg  their  pardon  and 
explain  that  the  second  jackscrew  was  all  right.  By  careful  work 
they  trapped  Steurer  several  times,  he  growing  more  confidential 
all  the  time,  and  finally  they  induced  him  to  accompany  them  to 
the  house  of  a friend  of  theirs,  where  they  wished  him  to  see  a 
certain'  tool  of  which  they  were  to  order  one  similar.  The  unsus- 
pecting manufacturer  of  burglars’  outfits  willingly  followed  their 
guidance,  nor  did  he  turn  back  when  they  had  led  him  into  police 
headquarters.  It  even  took  him  some  time  to  believe  that  he 
was  under  arrest,  and  that  his  three  customers  were  not  burglars 
after  all,  but  Central  Office  detectives. 

With  the  information  which  Steurer  had  already  divulged,  and 
what  was  subsequently  got  from  him,  it  was  learned  that  Henry 
Smith  and  Lilly  Miller  were  the  outside  confederates  of  Miller 
and  Brady,  the  escaped  Sing  Sing  prisoners.  They,  it  seems,  had 
gone  to  Steurer’s  shop  and  ordered  the  tools  which  were  afterward 
taken  to  Tarrytown,  and  thence  by  boat  to  Sing  Sing  and  placed 
in  the  lumber  pile.  Smith  had  already  been  arrested,  and  now 
Lilly  Miller  was  taken  to  police  headquarters.  But  the  detec- 
tives had  still  to  prove  who  had  assisted  the  escaped  prisoners 
inside  the  prison.  By  this  ' time,  however,  the  warden  had 
become  alarmed,  and  was  making  an  investigation  on  his  own 
account.  Through  Keeper  Gale,  he  forced  a confession  from 
Keeper  John  Outhouse.  This  confession  implicated  David  Manny, 
another  keeper,  who  was  said  to  have  taken  the  wax  impression 
of  the  key  to  No.  19.  Manny  was  afterward  acquitted,  however, 
of  any  complicity  in  the  escapes.  Outhouse  admitted  that  he 
had  taken  the  tools  to  Miller  and  Brady,  and  that  he  had  received 
$1000  for  his  assistance. 

After  these  revelations  escapes  from  Sing  Sing  were  not  such 
frequent  occurrences. 

A few  minutes  before  eleven  o’clock  on  the  night  of  May  7, 
1879,  Roundsman  Hirney  ran  breathlessly  into  the  Eldridge  Street 
police  station,  and  cried  out : “ ‘ Red  ’ Leary’s  escaped  from 


“ red  ” lf;ary’s  escape. 


303 


Ludlow  Street  Jail  ! ” The  policemen  who  were  around  the  room 
looked  up  in  amazement,  and  the  sergeant  in  command  began  at 
once  to  order  out  a number  of  men  for  the  search.  No  sooner 
had  he  given  the  order  than  another  man  ran  excitedly  into  the 
station-house  and  gave  the  alarm.  This  person  was  Bernard 
Fitzsimmons,  who  was  acting-warden  of  the  jail  at  the  time.  The 
men  whom  the  sergeant  had  ordered  out  accompanied  Fitzsimmons 
to  the  jail,  and  he  posted  them  at  different  points  about  the  block, 


so  that  the  jail-breaker  might  not  escape  from  the  immediate 
vicinity.  When  some  time  had  passed  and  no  sign  of  “ Red  ” 
Leary  had  been  seen,  the  policemen  searched  through  all  the  build- 
ings in  the  square,  but  with  no  better  result. 

In  the  mean  while,  however,  the  excited  condition  of  the  em- 
ployees in  the  jail  had  given  way  to  coolness,  and  a close  examin- 
ation revealed  the  manner  of  the  notorious  burglar’s  escape. 
Leary’s  cell  was  on  the  first  tier.  On  the  third  tier  there  was  a 
corridor,  at  the  end  of  which  was  a water-closet.  Leary  was 


3°  4 


THE  HOLE  IN  THE  WALL. 


allowed  the  run  of  the  corridor  until  10.30  p.m.  The  floor  of  the 
corridor  corresponded  to  the  second  story  of  the  jail.  It  was 
Keeper  Wendell’s  duty  to  see  that  Leary  was  in  his  cell  at  the 
proper  time,  and  at  10.30  o’clock  he  made  his  nightly  round. 
When  he  reached  the  door  of  the  prisoner’s  apartment  he  found  it 
partly  opened.  He  looked  inside  and  called  out,  “ Hullo,  there, 
Leary  ! ” No  answer  came.  Thinking  the  prisoner  might  be 
asleep  he  walked  into  the  narrow  room,  but  found  no  one  there.  He 
looked  under  the  iron  bedstead  and  still  saw  no  one.  “ He  must 
be  up  in  the  corridor,”  thought  the  keeper,  and  proceeded  up 
stairs.  But  there  was  no  Leary  in  the  corridor,  nor  in  the  closet. 
Wendell  now  was  thoroughly  aroused.  He  rushed  down  stairs  and 
told  Acting-Warden  Fitzsimmons,  who  at  once  started  for  the  police 
station.  While  he  was  absent,  and  the  men  from  the  Eldridge 
Street  station  were  searching  the  block,  a vigorous  investigation 
was  made  about  the  jail.  One  of  the  keepers  went  into  the  closet 
again  at  the  end  of  the  corridor  on  the  third  tier  of  cells,  and  there 
the  mystery  was  solved.  A huge  hole  was  found  in  one  corner  of 
the  room.  Assistance  was  summoned,  and  surrounded  by  a crowd 
of  excited  employees  of  the  prison,  one  of  the  keepers  entered  the 
hole  to  explore  it.  He  did  not  know  where  it  would  take  him,  or 
what  obstacles  he  would  meet  at  the  end  of  it.  Perhaps  Red 
Leary  himself  was  there  with  a club  in  his  hands  to  dash  out  the 
brains  of  the  first  man  who  stuck  his  head  through.  But  whatever 
fears  the  keeper  had  he  did  not  show  them,  and  worked  his  way 
on  through  the  aperture.  He  crawled  at  least  five  feet  and  then 
found  himself  in  a room  on  the  fifth  floor  of  the  tenement  house 
which  adjoined  the  jail.  Then  the  manner  of  the  burglar’s  escape 
was  solved.  A search  of  the  tenement  house  was  made  at  once, 
but  no  “ Red  ” Leary  was  found. 

The  investigation,  however,  showed  that  some  weeks  previously 
a woman  named  Mrs.  Myers,  whose  husband  was  a ’longshoreman, 
had  taken  three  rooms  in  No.  76  Ludlow  Street,  the  large  tene- 
ment house  next  the  jail.  About  the  same  time  two  men  took 
rooms  in  the  third  story  on  the  side  near  the  jail,  and  then  almost 
immediately  moved  to  the  fifth  story.  The  second  floor  of  the  jail 
was  three  feet  below  the  fifth  floor  of  the  tenement.  From  these 
rooms  the  men  burrowed  with  mathematical  precision  down 
through  the  five  feet  of  wall  into  the  water-closet  of  the  jail. 
Leary  was  kept  posted  as  to  their  progress  by  his  wife,  who  visited 


BRICKS  IN  THE  Ft  REPLACE.  305 

him  frequently.  . She  was  there  on  the  day  of  the  escape  at  12 
o’clock,  and  again  from  five  until  eight  o’clock  in  the  evening. 
During  this  last  visit  it  is  likely  that  the  final  arrangements  were 
made  for  the  arch-rascal’s  gaining  his  liberty.  When  the  room 
into  which  the  hole  from  the  jail  entered  was  searched,  nearly  a 
wagon  load  of  bricks  were  found  in  the  fireplace.  As  they  had 
been  taken  out  they  had  been  carefully  piled  and  concealed.  A 
broken  hydraulic  jimmy  was  found  near  the  scene  of  labor,  and 
scraps  of  food  and  cooking  utensils  lay  scattered  around  the  room. 

Leary  was  in  jail  awaiting  extradition  papers  by  which  he  was 
to  be  taken  to  Northampton  and  tried  for  the  famous  burglary 
which  was  committed  in  the  National  Bank  of  that  place.  After 
his  escape  he  went  to  Europe,  but  returned  again  to  this  country, 
and  was  re-captured  in  Brooklyn  on  February  4,  1881. 


20 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


PERSECUTING  THE  RECTOR  OF  TRINITY  CHURCH. — ONSLAUGHT  OF 
THE  CHILDREN  OF  ISRAEL. — NOT  AN  EPILEPTIC  FIT. — UNWEL- 
COME LIQUOR  BILLS. — A “ HERALD  ” PERSONAL. — AN  INDIGNANT 
HUSBAND. — TRACING  THE  HANDWRITING. — FOUND  IN  BALTI- 
MORE.— “ GENTLEMAN  JOE’S  ” DEATH. 

One  of  the  most  extraordinary  mysteries  that  ever  puzzled  the 
police,  the  press  and  the  people  was  the  daring  persecution  of  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Morgan  Dix,  the  rector  of  Trinity  Church,  by  “ Gentle- 
man Joe,”  in  the  winter  of  1880.  To  this  day  those  concerned  in 
the  capture  of  the  rascal  who  kept  the  aged  clergyman,  the  police 
department  and  the  leading  members  , of  several  professions  and 
trades  in  a ferment  for  a month,  and  those  who  knew  him  before 
and  afterward,  are  unable  to  decide  whether  “ Gentleman  Joe  ” 
was  merely  the  feather-brained  crank  he  seemed,  or  whether 
some  sinister  design,  involving  a deep,  ulterior  motive,  inspired  his 
remarkable  conduct. 

It  seems  almost  incredible  that  a man  of  the  soundness  of 
mind  in  ordinary  matters  that  he  manifested  should  have  cut  up 
the  pranks  he  played  for’  mere  amusement,  and  yet  the  circum- 
stance that  the  only  threats  of  blackmail  he  made  were  incidental 
to  his  scheme  of  persecution,  indicates  that  money  was  not  the 
object  he  was  striving  to  attain.  On  the  other  hand,  he  had  no 
incentive  for  the  malice  he  displayed  toward  the  victim  of  his  at- 
tentions, since  Dr.  Dix  had  been  but  one  of  several  in  the  only 
matter  that  can  possibly  suggest  itself,  if  vengeance  were  the 
motive  of  “ Gentleman  Joe’s  ” persecutions.  Another  mystery  in 
the  affair  was  the  rascal’s  source  of  income.  No  one  knew  how 
he  obtained  the  large  amounts  of  money  he  spent,  not  only  in 
carrying  on  his  campaign  against  Dr.  Dix,  but  for.  other  purposes 
during  his  previous  career.  He  possessed  no  property  and  had 
no  bank  account ; the  only  swindles  or  thefts  he  was  ever  known 
to  perpetrate  were  on  a scale  so  small  that  their  sum  total  would 
not  have  supported  him  for  a week ; and  yet  he  lived  in  good 

306 


TRICKS  ON  DR.  DIX. 


307 


style,  and  bore  all  the  outward  evidences  of  prosperity  in  his  career 
in  several  American  and  European  capitals. 

The  malicious  ingenuity  that  “Gentleman  Joe”  displayed  in 
his  tricks  upon  the  venerable  clergyman  saved  him  from  the 
clutches  of  the  police  for  so  long  a time  that  they  had  almost  given 
up  hope  of  ever  laying  hands  upon  him.  During  the  entire  period 
that  he  kept  the  community  stirred  not  a single  clew  was  found 
to  the  perpetrator  of  the  outrages.  His  final  discovery  and  ar- 
rest were  due  rather  to  a fortunate  accident  than  to  his  own  care- 
lessness in  leaving  any  of  his  tracks  uncovered. 

The  attention  of  the  police  was  first  called  to  this  remarkable 
case  in  February,  1880,  though  for  some  time  previously  Dr.  Dix 
had  been  annoyed  by  his  unknown  persecutor.  About  this  time 
nearly  every  large  manufacturing  concern  in  the  West  received 
postal  cards  purporting  to  come  from  Dr.  Dix,  speaking  of  their 
goods  in  a favorable  way,  saying  that  the  writer  wished  to  make 
large  purchases  for  the  supply  of  several  charitable  institutions 
under  his  control,  and  requesting  the  fullest  information  regarding 
prices  and  cash  discounts.  At  the  same  time  all  the  leading 
seminaries,  boarding-schools  and  institutions  for  female  education 
in  the  country  received  letters,  signed  with  the  name  of  Trinity's 
rector,  asking  for  information  and  terms,  with  a view  to  placing 
two  or  three  little  girls  in  one  of  these  academies. 

The  result  was  that  for  a week  Dr.  Dix  received  every  day  an 
immense  mass  of  circulars,  hundreds  of  letters  and  innumerable 
samples  of  dry  goods,  while  from  seminaries  and  boarding-schools 
came  long  and  enthusiastic  communications,  offering  special  terms 
to  the  wards  of  so  distinguished  a clergyman,  while  many  of  the 
institutions  sent  members  of  their  faculties  to  call  on  the  doctor 
in  person.  Morning,  afternoon  and  evening  the  door-bell  was 
rung,  commercial  agents  and  educators  called  at  the  pastoral  resi- 
dence, who  kept  Dr.  Dix  explaining  and  insisting  that  he  had  sent 
no  communications  to  the  dry  goods  houses,  and  that  he  had  no 
children  under  his  care  whom  he  desired  to  place  in  educational 
institutions.  Many  Western  houses  had  sent  agents  to  New  York 
to  sec^ife  Dr.  Dix’s  order,  and  a number  of  college  instructors  had 
dfavelldd  Jong  distances. to  explain  the  superiority  of  their  methods 
of  education.  In  spite  of  the^annoyance,  and  the  fact  that  he  was 
in  no  way  to  blame  for  the  hoax  of  which  he  was  jointly  a victim 


3°8 


PUZZLING  THE  POLICE. 


with  them,  the  clergyman  felt  it  to  be  his  duty  to  make  a personal 
explanation  of  the  matter  to  each  one  of  his  unwelcome  callers. 

The  newspapers  and  the  police  made  strenuous  efforts  to  ascer- 
tain the  identity  of  this  wholesale  joker.  Many  of  the  postal- 
cards  and  letters  to  which  Dr.  Dix’s  name  was  signed,  and  which 
had  brought  about  the  trouble,  were  procured  and  were  found  to 
be  all  in  the  same  handwriting.  The  rascal  had  even  gone  to  the 
expense  of  obtaining  engraved  letter-paper  with  the  title,  “ Trinity 
Parsonage,  No.  27  West  Twenty-fifth  Street,”  across  the  top,  to 
more  completely  establish  his  hoax  in  the  minds  of  the  persons 
who  received  his  letters.  An  effort  was  made  to  get  some  clew 
to  his  identity  through  the  engraver  of  this  letter-paper,  but  he 
had  received  the  order  through  a messenger-boy,  and  another  boy 
had  called  for  the  package  and  paid  the  bill.  A search  of  the 
district  messenger  offices  failed  to  find  the  boys  who  had  done 
this  errand,  and  the  trail  was  lost  there.  The  letters  were  all 
good  examples  of  literary  composition,  and  the  writing  of  the  hun- 
dred or  more  that  the  man  sent  out  must  have  occupied  several 
days.  Whoever  the  writer  was,  the  police  thought  he  was  playing 
a great  deal  of  a jest  upon  himself  as  well  as  his  victims,  but  the 
apparent  lack  of  motive  in  the  affair  was  the  most  puzzling  feature 
of  it. 

Dr.  Dix’s  commercial  mail  was  only  beginning  to  fall  off  a trifle, 
when  the  most  distinguished  clergymen  and  bishops  of  the  Epis- 
copal church,  particularly  throughout  the  East,  received  curt  let- 
ters, on  the  Trinity  Parsonage  paper,  signed  with  the  pastor’s 
name,  demanding  to  know  why  they  had  ignored  his  letters.  As 
a result  the  unfortunate  Dr.  Dix  began  to  receive  numerous  grave 
and  stately  documents  from  these  clerical  gentlemen,  assuring 
him  that  they  had  not  received  previous  letters  from  him,  and 
expressing  regret  at  the  unchristian  tone  of  his  address  to  them 
in  reference  to  the  matter.  Of  course  this  necessitated  an  im- 
mense amount  of  explanatory  correspondence  on  the  doctor’s  part, 
and  the  good  old  rector  began  to  realize  that  life  was  a burden. 
But  he  had  not  concluded  his  explanations  when  the  various  Bible 
societies  and  religious  book  concerns  began  to  pour  in  circulars, 
letters  and  agents  in  response  to  postal  cards  requesting  that 
terms  for  supplying  Trinity  Sunday-school  be  sent  to  the  rectory. 

Dr.  Dix  and  the  police  gave  the  fullest  information  in  all  these 
cases  to  the  newspapers,  in  order  that  publicity  might  warn  any 


TRADING  “ MIT  A SHENTLEMAN.”  309 

persons  receiving  communications  purporting  to  come  from  the 
clergyman.  But,  strangely  enough,  the  warning  seemed  to  have 
no  effect.  The  most  amusing  feature  of  the  entire  series  of 
hoaxes — if  there  is  an  amusing  side  to  such  a mean  persecution — 
came  the  next  in  order. 

On  February  21,  Dr.  Dix  received  a postal  card,  mailed  at  the 
general  post-office  the  day  before,  informing  him  that  he  would  re- 
ceive calls  on  the  following  Monday  from  the  “ old  clothes 
ladies,”  of  Baxter  and  Chatham  streets,  who  would  be  prepared  to 
enter  into  negotiations  with  him  for  the  disposal  of  his  wife’s 
wardrobe.  In  fear  and  trembling  Dr.  Dix  waited  for  Monday  to 
arrive.  It  came,  and  the  feminine  part  of  the  old  clothes  trade 
came  with  it. 

The  pastor  of  Trinity  had  hardly  finished  his  breakfast,  when  a 
rickety  little  wagon,  drawn  by  a mournful  little  horse,  rattled  up 
the  fashionable  thoroughfare  and  stopped  before  his  door.  On 
the  seat  sat  a very  fat  woman  of  Semitic  profile,  in  stately 
grandeur.  A small  boy,  whose  countenance  was  a miniature  re- 
production of  her’s,  held  the  reins  in  one  hand,  while  with  the 
other  arm  he  supported  an  infant  of  perhaps  four  years,  that  to  all 
appearance  had  not  been  washed  since  its  birth.  The  fat  woman 
descended  ponderously  from  the  wagon,  almost  bearing  the 
mournful  little  horse  to  the  ground  as  she  steadied  herself  by 
placing  a hand  upon  his  haunches,  and  then  climbed  laboriously 
up  the  front  steps.  Dr.  Dix  opened  the  door. 

“ Madam,”  he  said,  courteously,  “ I am  afraid  yOu  have  been 
made  the  victim  of  a hoax.  I haven’t ” 

“ Ah,  ha ! ” interrupted  the  matron,  suspiciously.  “ You  sell  dose 
glothes  already,  heh  ? ” 

“ No,  no,”  said  the  doctor,  “ I haven’t  any  to  sell.” 

“Vot’s  der  matter?”  said  the  lady,  in  an  injured  tone.  “I  gif 
you  der  best  brice  in  der  market.  Come,  you  trade  mit  me 
vonce,  an’  you  nefer  trade  mit  anybody  else  again.  I vas  shoost 
so  much  of  a fool  dat  I sheat  mineself  always  when  I trade  mit 
a shentleman.” 

“ But  you’ve  made  a mistake,”  began  the  unfortunate  clergyman. 
“ You — 

“ Shoost  show  me  dose  glothes,  an’  vhen  I tell  you  vhat  I gif 
you,  you  sell  ’em  right  avay,”  pursued  the  fat  woman,  overlooking 
his  protest. 


r 


Dr.  DIX’S  ^ ISITORS. 


“ GIT  ONTO  DE  SHEENYS.” 


31  1 

“ j tell  you,”  said  Dr.  Dix,  firmly,  “ that  I have  no  clothes  to  sell, 
and  I must  request  you  to  leave  the  house.” 

“ I gif  you  der  money  down,”  insisted  the  visitor,  “ I gif  effery- 
thing ” 

A scream  from  the  sidewalk  interrupted  her,  and  the  horrified 
Doctor  of  Divinity  beheld  another  Jewish  female  ascending  his 
steps,  shaking  her  finger  and  exclaiming : 

“ Don’t  you  trade  mit  dot  woman,  she  sheat  you  haluf  vot  dose 
glothes  is  vort.  I buy  dose  glothes  at  your  own  brice,  mit  der 
cash  on  der  spot.” 

“I  bought  dose  glothes  already,”  remarked  the  first  comer,  with 
dignity.  “ Shakey,”  she  called  to  her  younger  son,  “ come  right 
avay  an’  bring  dose  glothes  into  der  vagon.  Mosish  can  hold  der 
horse.” 

In  despair  Dr.  Dix  closed  his  door,  but  not  until  he  had  caught 
a glimpse  of  three  other  women  hurrying  toward  the  house,  one 
drawing  a clattering  hand-cart  behind  her  on  the  sidewalk.  The 
two  women  on  the  steps  held  a short  conference,  pulled  the  bell  a 
couple  of  times  for  luck,  endeavored  to  peer  through  the  stained- 
glass  side-lights  and  then  descended  to  the  pavement  and  sat 
placidly  down  upon  the  bottom  step.  The  other  women  rang  the 
basement  bell,  and  Dr.  Dix,  being  aware  that  it  was  no  fault  of 
theirs  that  brought  them  there,  opened  the  door  and  began  to 
explain  the  circumstance  to  them,  when  the  other  two  women  left 
the  steps  and  ran  excitedly  in  to- hear  the  conversation,  jabbering 
the  high  prices  they  were  willing  to  pay.  The  clergyman  again 
shut  the  door  in  self-defence,  and  when  he  got  up  stairs  and 
peered  through  the  parlor  curtains,  there  were  three  additional 
women  and  two  very  dirty  boys  in  his  door-yard.  A moment  later 
another  wagon,  bearing  the  name  of  Isaacstein,  of  Baxter  Street, 
on  the  side,  drove  up  and  two  more  females  were  added  to  the 
assembly.  At  this  interesting  juncture  a street  gamin  contributed 
to  *fee  complication  by  shouting  to  a group  of  companions  : 

“Hi,  fellers!  Git  onto  de  Sheenys!  Here’s  de  Essex  Street 
women’s  rights  a holdin’  a conwention!”  And  in  another 
moment  a group  of  street  boys  were  leaning  on  the  iron  fence, 
making  solicitous  inquiries  relative  to  the  market  rates  of  wearing 
apparel,  and  openly  comparing  the  relative  sizes  of  the  Hebrew 
noses. 

Dr.  Dix  observed  that  his  neighbors  were  becoming  highly  inter- 


312 


PHYSICIANS  VICTIMIZED. 


ested  in  the  goings  on  in  his  premises,  but  none  of  the  women 
manifested  any  intention  to  leave,  while,  on  the  contrary,  new 
arrivals  were  continually  appearing.  At  noon  there  were  twenty- 
eight  women  and  twelve  children  in  the  yard  and  on  the  steps. 
Each  one  obviously  thought  that  a sale  was  to  take  place,  and  that 
the  one  who  waited  the  longest  would  be  able  to  make  a good  bar- 
gain, and  hence  each  was  determined  to  out-stay  the  others.  But 
Dr.  Dix,  observing  that  there  was  no  disposition  among  them  to 
leave  of  their  own  accord,  finally  telephoned  to  police  headquar- 
ters, and  a squad  of  officers  was  sent  to  disperse  them.  This  was 
not  accomplished  without  a great  deal  of  difficulty.  Each  one  of 
these  women  had  received  a note  requesting  her  to  call  at  Trinity 
parsonage  to  purchase  the  wardrobe  of  the  rector’s  wife. 

The  last  one  of  these  women  had  scarcely  been  driven  away, 
and  the  police  had  hardly  departed,  when  a carriage  whirled  rap- 
idly around  the  corner  from  Fifth  Avenue,  stopped  before  the  par- 
sonage, and  one  of  the  leading  physicians  of  the  city  sprang 
hastily  out  and  ran  up  the  steps.  He  had  scarcely  pulled  the 
bell,  when  two  more  carriages  came  swiftly  down  the  street  and 
also  stopped  in  front  of  the  house,  and  two  more  eminent  physi- 
cians hurriedly  entered  the  house.  Each  one  told  Dr.  Dix  that  he 
had  been  summoned  by  a messenger  to  come  directly  to  the  par- 
sonage, as  the  pastor  had  gone  into  an  epileptic  fit  and  was  feared 
to  be  dying.  The  same  summons  had  been  sent  to  twenty  or 
thirty  physicians,  and  their  visits  continued  until  late  in  the  even- 
ing. 

The  following  day  Dr.  Dix  received  a note  from  his  unknown 
tormentor,  in  which  he  said  that  he  had  witnessed  the  arrival  and 
the  exodus  of  the  children  of  Israel  from  his  window,  and  suggest- 
ing to  the  clergyman  that  they  would  have  been  more  agreeable 
associates  if  he  had  had  sufficient  foresight  to  call  out  a fire- 
engine  to  play  upon  them  with  a stream  of  cologne.  The  hint 
that  the  man  lived  in  the  neighborhood  was  eagerly  taken  up  by 
the  detectives,  and  every  house  that  commanded  a view  of  Dr. 
Dix’s  residence  was  at  once  enquired  at,  and  a complete  census 
of  all  the  residents  taken  without  any  success.  That  afternoon  a 
troop  of  shoemakers,  each  one  of  whom  had  received  a postal  card 
requesting  him  to  call  and  measure  some  children  for  shoes,  put 
in  an  appearance  ; and  at  least  fifty  men  and  women  who  had  ad- 
vertised for  employment,  and  received  notes  requesting  them  to 


u 


PERSONALS. 


3*3 


call  upon  Dr.  Dix,  visited  him  during  the  afternoon  and  evening. 
The  latter  callers  were  very  persistent,  and  many  of  them  called 
several  times  to  make  sure  that  their  letters  were  in  reality  hoaxes. 
The  man  who  had  victimized  them  wrote  to  Dr.  Dix  the  next  day 
that  he  had  himself  been  one  of  the  callers  among  those  seeking 
employment,  and  complimented  him  upon  the  courtesy  he  had 
shown  in  dismissing  him. 

A day  or  two  later  this  nuisance  took  on  a new  form,  scarcely 
less  annoying.  Messrs.  Arnold,  Constable  & Co.,  A.  T.  Stewart  & 
Co.,  Stern  Bros.,  Lord  & Taylor,  and  other  v^ell  known  dry  goods 
houses  received  letters,  telling  them  that  their  impertinent  letters 
had  been  received  and  turned  over  to  counsel,  who  would  proceed 
against  them.  These  firms  made  haste  to  respond  that  no  such 
letters  had  been  sent  by  them,  only  to  find  that,  on  the  other 
hand,  no  such  letters  had  been  written  to  them.  About  :ne  same 
time  many  well  known  clergymen  received  invitations  to  dine  with 
Dr.  Dix,  to  meet  the  bishops  of  York  and  Exeter,  only  to  find  upon 
arriving  at  the  parsonage  that  the  rector  and  themselves  were  the 
victims  of  another  hoax. 

After  this  freak  the  rascally  author  of  the  various  forgeries 
turned  his  attention  for  a day  to  other  victims.  He  mailed  a num- 
ber of  postal  cards  to  eminently  respectable  citizens*  signing  the 
communications  with  the  names  of  various  liquor  dealers,  and  in- 
forming each  recipient  of  a card  that  he  would  get  himself  into 
trouble  unless  he  called  at  once,  or  sent  to  the  undersigned  the 
amount  of  his  bill  for  liquors  and  cigars.  Only  the  names  of  re- 
spectable liquor  dealers  w'ere  signed  to  these  cards,  while  the 
victims  themselves  were  citizens  of  wealth  and  respectability,  most 
of  them  being  members  of  churches.  They  were  naturally  very 
much  incensed,  and  many  of  them  placed  the  matter  in  the  hands 
of  their  lawyers  before  the  true  state  of  affairs  was  discovered. 

Then  came  the  first  letter  that  hinted  at  anything  like  blackmail 
to  Dr.  Dix.  The  clergyman  was  informed  that  all  the  annoyances 
to  which  he  had  been  subjected  would  cease  on  payment  of  one 
thousand  dollars  to  the  writer.  He  was  instructed  in  case  he  ac- 
cepted this  proposition  to  insert  a personal  in  the  Herald,  ad- 
dressed to  “Gentleman  Joe,”  saying:  “All  right.”  Dr.  Dix  at 
once  communicated  with  the  detectives  who  were  at  work  on  the 
case,  and  they  advised  inserting  the  personal.  The  next  day  there 
were  three  personals  in  the  Herald  addressed  to  “ Gentleman  Joe,” 


3*4 


“gentleman  joe.” 


each  one  making  the  same  communication,  “ All  right,”  but  Dr. 
Dix’s  persecutor,  who  had  probably  inserted  two  of  these  adver- 
tisements himself,  did  not  pay  the  slightest  attention  to  the  other 
one.  Whether  he  really  intended  black-mail  and  was  frightened 
out  of  his  scheme,  or  whether  he  only  desired  to  put  the  doctor  to 
the  annoyance  of  advertising,  has  never  been  ascertained.  How- 
ever that  was,  the  scoundrel  now  discontinued  his  annoyances  for 
a couple  of  weeks,  after  having  kept  lawyers,  detectives  and  re- 
porters on  the  qui  i rive  for  nearly  a month. 

Dr.  Dix  was  just  beginning  to  congratulate  himself  that  his  tor- 
mentor had  ceased  his  attentions  for  good,  when,  on  St.  Patrick’s 
Day,  he  received  another  letter  in  the  too  familiar  handwriting,  in 
which  “ Gentleman  Joe  ” informed  his  “ Dear  friend,  Dr.  Dix,” 
that  his  house  would  be  again  besieged  on  the  following  Friday, 
unless  he  paid  the  writer  $1500.  He  inclosed  a name  and  ad- 
dress to  which  the  money  was  to  be  sent.  No  notice  was  taken  of 
this  communication  except  that  the  clergyman  put  the  detectives 
in  charge  of  his  house,  while  he,  to  avoid  the  threatened  annoy- 
ance, spent  the  day  at  his  office  in  the  church.  As  “ Gentleman 
Joe  ” had  promised,  Dr.  Dix’s  house  was  besieged  by  all  classes  of 
men  on  all  kinds  of  errands.  In  spite  of  the  publicity  that  had 
been  given  to  the  case  by  the  newspapers,  not  one  of  the  callers 
had  any  idea,  until  he  arrived  at  the  house,  that  this,  too,  was  a 
hoax.  “ Gentleman  Joe  ” had  adroitly  begun  all  his  letters  on 
this  occasion  with  an  allusion  to  the  mischievous  tricks  of  which 
the  supposed  writer  had  been  the  victim,  in  such  a manner  as  to 
throw  them  all  off  their  guards. 

Early  in  the  morning  came  a member  of  a well  known  firm  of 
lawyers,  who  had  received  a letter  purporting  to  come  from  Mrs. 
Dix,  who  desired  to  consult  them  relative  to  proceeding  against 
her  husband  for  divorce.  Then  other  lawyers  called  on  the  same 
errand  during  the  day,  and  another  firm  sent  word  that  a represent- 
ative would  visit  her  the  following  afternoon.  Another  caller  was 
the  agent  of  a steamship  line,  who  had  received  notice  to  bring 
two  tickets  for  Havana.  Other  callers  were  persons  who  had  ad- 
vertised in  the  newspapers  of  the  previous  two  or  three  days,  offer- 
ing rewards  for  lost  or  stolen  property,  they  having  been  di- 
rected to  call  at  Dr.  Dix’s  number  and  bring  the  reward  with 
them. 

One  man,  who  had  advertised  one  hundred  dollars  reward  for 


INSULTING  MRS.  DIX. 


315 


the  return  of  two  stolen  one-thousand-dollar  bonds,  had  been 
notified  to  call  with  the  promised  amount,  and  get  his  bonds  that 
morning.  He  was  not  aware  that  No.  27  West  Twenty-fifth  Street 
was  Dr.  Dix’s  number,  and,  therefore,  he  brought  a private  detec- 
tive with  him.  The  gentleman  entered  the  house  and  the  detective 
stationed  himself  opposite,  it  having  been  previously  agreed  that 
if  the  money  was  paid  and  the  bonds  received,  the  gentleman  on 
coming  out  of  the  house  was  to  scratch  his  right  leg  with  his  left 
foot,  when  the  detective  was  to  rush  in  and  arrest  the  negotiator 
of  stolen  goods.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  the  gentleman 
came  out  scratching  his  head  instead  of  his  leg,  and  feeling  very 
foolish  over  the  fact  that  he,  too,  had  been  victimized  by  the  man 
whose  pranks  had  been  so  thoroughly  advertised. 

Dr.  Dix  returned  home  at  night  to  be  informed  of  his  numerous 
visitors  and  the  various  purposes  for  which  they  had  called,  and 
the  next  day  he  received  a letter  from  “ Gentleman  Joe,”  in  which 
that  audacious  trickster  gleefully  related  the  details  of  his  visit  to 
the  house  on  the  previous  day,  pretending  that  he  had  been  sent 
for  in  response  to  an  advertisement.  He  informed  the  doctor 
that  he  was  always  in  sight  of  the  house  and  hugely  enjoyed  the 
rare  sights  it  furnished.  That  afternoon  he  meanly  insulted  Mrs. 
Dix  by  sending  her  a pair  of  exceedingly  dirty  stockings,  together 
with  a note,  in  which  he  said  that  he  had  another  pair  which  he 
would  place  at  her  disposal  when  the  first  were  sufficiently  worn. 

The  adventure  that  came  the  nearest  to  resulting  disastrously  to 
the  good  old  clergyman  was  “Gentleman  Joe’s”  most  audacious 
trick.  About  ten  o’clock,  a few  mornings  after  the  occurrence 
just  related,  Dr.  Dix’s  bell  rang  violently,  and  a servant  hurried  to 
the  door.  A very  determined  looking  man,  who  carried  a light 
and  supple  cane,  stepped  quickly  into  the  hall  as  soon  as  the  door 
was  opened  and  inquired  sharply  : 

“ Is  Dr.  Dix  at  home  ? ” 

“Yes,  sir.  What  do  you  want  to  see  him  about?”  inquired  the 
girl,  who  surmised  that  he  was  probably  the  victim  of  a hoax. 

“ It’s  none  of  your  d — d business  what  I want  to  see  him 
about,”  returned  the  visitor,  savagely,  “ send  him  down  to  me.” 

TRe  affrighted  servant  fled,  and  informed  her  master  that  a very 
cross  man  was  waiting  for  him  in  the  hall,  who  declined  to  state 
his  business.  Believing  that  this  was  probably  another  detail  of 
his  tormentor’s  scheme,  the  clergyman  descended  to  the  front  hall, 


3 16 


4;  WHAT  CAN  I DO  FOR  YOU  ? ” 


where  his  visitor  was  leaning  against  the  wall  with  his  hat  on  and 
his  hands  behind  him. 

“ What  can  I do  for  you  ? ” Dr.  Dix  asked,  mildly. 

The  stranger  did  not  reply  at  once.  He  glanced  the  minister 
over  scornfully  from  his  worsted-work  slippers  to  his  gray  head, 
and  then  sneered  : 

“You  leacherous  old  hypocrite  ! You’re  a fine  plum  for  a min- 
ister of  the  gospel,  you  are — you  sniffling,  sanctimonious  old 
sinner.” 

“ Sir,”  began  Dr.  Dix,  haughtily,  “ what  do ” 

“ Shut  up,”  thundered  the  visitor,  taking  a step  toward  the 
clergyman.  “ Don’t  you  dare  to  open  that  old  Bible  trap  of  yours 
until  I get  through  talking  to  you.” 

“I’ll  call  a policeman,”  cried  the  doctor;  “I’ll  see  if 

“ D — n you,  1 tell  you  to  shut  up,”  shouted  the  stranger,  with  a 
scowl  so  black  that  the  clergyman’s  knees  knocked  together.  “ If 
you  call  anything  you’ll  call  an  ambulance,  and  I’ll  have  you  ready 
to  go  to  a hospital  in  it,  you  bow-legged  old  pelican.” 

“Wb — what  have  I ever  d — done  to — to  you  ?”  faltered  the 
clergyman. 

“ What  have  you  ever  done  to  me  ? ” repeated  the  stranger,  vio- 
lently. “ D’ye  mean  to  say  you  don’t  know  what  you’ve  done  to  me 
— or  rather  what  you’ve  tried  to  do  to  me  ? Do  you  want  to  make 
the  matter  worse  by  lying  about  it  ? By  G — d,  it  makes  me  sick  to 
think  of  you  standing  up  in  your  old  doxology  works  every  Sunday, 
and  ladling  out  religion  with  that  sanctimonious  mug  of  yours,  and 
all  the  time  sizing  up  the  women  in  the  pews.  O,  I’m  right  onto 
you  with  all  four  feet.  Now  I’ll  tell  you  what  I am  going  to  do.  I 
ought  to  take  you  out  in  the  street  and  cane  you  publicly ; but  this 
time  I’m  going  to  be  easy,  and  I’ll  thrash  you  in  the  privacy  of 
your  own  hall.  But  if  you  dare  to  yell  or  call  for  help,  I’ll  finish 
you  up  out  on  the  steps.” 

“ But  what  for  ? ” gasped  the  agonized  Dr.  Dix,  as  the  stranger 
took  a firmer  grip  upon  his  lithe  and  slender  cane.  “ What  have  I 
done  ? ” 

The  stranger  paused,  and  gazed  upon  the  clergyman  with 
unfeigned  astonishment.  Then  he  broke  out : 

“ Well,  for  clean  cheek  if  you  don’t  get  the  medal  ! What  for? 
— D — n your  old  slippers  ! For  writing  that  letter  to  my  wife  you 
hoary-headed  old  scoundrel ! ” 


“ it’s  a forgery.” 


317 


The  stranger  produced  a letter,  and  waved  it  excitedly  above  his 
head.  “ I’ll  teach  you  to  make  an  appointment  with  a respectable 
woman,  you  old  ruffian,”  he  said.  “ I’ll  not  only  give  you  such  an 
everlasting  thrashing  that  you’ll  wish  you'd  died  before  you  were 
born,  Ikit  I’ll  placard  you  in  the  street.  Call  my  wife,  whom  you 
never  spoke  to,  your  ‘ darling  Annie,’  will  you  ? Well,  I’ll  wager 
you  won’t  again.” 

“ I never  wrote  such  a letter,”  cried  the  minister. 

“ You  unblushing  liar,”  cried  the  visitor,  “ there’s  your  name  to 
it.” 

“ It’s  a forgery,”  cried  Dr.  Dix. 

“ Is  it,  though,”  snarled  the  stranger,  contemptuously.  “ Well, 
I’ll  tell  you  what  I’ll  do.  I’ll  give  you  one  chance  for  a whole 
skin.  Get  me  some  of  your  handwriting  and  let  me  compare  it 
with  this  letter.” 

“ I’ll  do  it,”  cried  the  doctor,  “ I can  convince  you  in  a moment. 
I was  just  writing  a sermon,  and  I’ll  get  you  my  last  page  of  manu- 
script,” and  he  started  to  run  up  stairs. 

“ Here  ! ” said  the  visitor,  sternly,  “ come  back  here  ! You  can’t 
come  that  dodge  on  me.  You’d  run  up  stairs  and  get  a revolver 
or  climb  out  on  the  roof,  wouldn’t  you  ? I’ll  just  go  along  with 
you,  my  reverend  old  boy.  You  don’t  get  out  of  my  sight  until 
you’ve  either  cleared  yourself  or  had  a thrashing.” 

Accordingly,  Dr.  Dix  and  his  unwelcome  visitor  mounted  to  the 
minister’s  study,  where  the  clergyman  readily  proved  that  his 
handwriting  was  very  different  from  that  of  the  offensive  letter. 
But  the  stranger  muttered  a few  remarks  about  writing  in  a dis- 
guised hand,  and  finally  said  that  he  guessed  he’d  go  and  see  a 
lawyer  about  the  matter  and  get  some  money  out  of  it. 

Dr.  Dix  was  in  a state  of  terror  after  this  incident  until  the  fol- 
lowing day,  when  he  received  a note  from  “Gentleman  Joe,” 
declaring  that  the  writer  had  enjoyed  his  call  the  day  before 
exceedingly,  and  that  he  hoped  the  doctor  had  recovered  from  his 
fright.  The  savage  stranger  was  none  other  than  “ Gentleman 
Joe”  himself,  but  Dr.  Dix’s  description  of  him  gave  the  police  no 
clew. 

Strange  as  it  may  seem,  notwithstanding  all  the  annoyance  he 
had  caused,  “ Gentleman  Joe  ” had  thus  far  committed  no  legal 
offence,  save  when  he  had  written  a letter  threatening  to  publish  in 
the  daily  papers  charges  of  adultery  against  the  clergyman.  But 


A CLEW  AT  LAST. 


3*8 

all  the  other  annoyances  he  had  caused  did  not  then  come  within 
any  of  our  criminal  statutes,  since  no  such  offence  ever  having  been 
committed  before,  there  had  been  no  law  made  to  punish  it.  But 
the  threat  to  make  charges  of  adultery  came  under  the  blackmail 
law,  and  the  aid  of  the  Post-Office  department  was  now  invoked  to 
discover  the  identity  of  the  rascal.  In  order  to  make  sure  of  his 
detection,  detectives  were  actually  set  to  watch  every  letter-box 
and  branch  office  in  the  city.  The  officers  were  provided  with 
keys,  and  with  samples  of  “Gentleman  Joe’s  ” handwriting.  They 
stood  at  short  distances  from  the  boxes,  and  whenever  any  one 
mailed  a letter,  the  box  was  at  once  opened  and  the  handwriting 
on  the  envelope  examined.  If  “ Gentleman  Joe’s”  neat  chirogra- 
phy  had  been  discovered  in  any  of  these  instances,  whoever  had 
deposited  the  letter  would  have  been  summarily  arrested.  Though 
this  surveillance  was  continued  for  a week,  Dr.  Dix’s  tormentor  did 
not  use  the  mails  during  that  time. 

At  length,  every  method  of  detecting  the  rascal  that  could  be 
devised  having  failed,  it  was  resolved  to  make  random  inquiries, 
with  the  hope  of  securing  some  clew  by  a piece  of  luck.  For  this 
purpose  detectives  consulted  personally  every  clergyman  in  the 
city  to  ascertain  if  perchance  some  hint  might  be  obtained  upon 
which  action  could  be  taken.  None  of  these  gentlemen  could 
offer  the  slightest  help  or  make  any  suggestion,  much  as  they  sym- 
pathized with  the  rector  of  Trinity.  One  clergyman,  however,  of 
another  denomination,  happened  to  mention  to  a detective  that  he 
had  seen  in  the  city  only  a few  days  before  a man  who  called  him- 
self Eugene  Fairfax  Williamson.  He  had  left  New  York  several 
years  previously,  upon  being  found  guilty  of  extremely  bestial  con- 
duct by  the  trustees  of  Trinity  church,  in  whose  Sabbath-school  he 
had  been  a teacher. 

The  detective  thought  that  even  so  remote  a circumstance  as 
the  fact  that  Dr.  Dix  was  at  the  head  of  a church  that  had 
detected  this  man  and  forced  him  to  leave  the  city  because  of 
another  case,  might  possibly  account  for  a motive  in  lack  of  any 
other.  Acting  on  the  hint,  Superintendent  Gaylor  of  the  Post- 
Office  Department  at  once  made  an  examination  of  his  books,  to 
see  if  Williamson’s  handwriting  was  in  their  possession.  His 
name  was  found  in  the  book  in  which  are  registered  the  names 
and  addresses  of  persons  requesting  their  mail  to  be  forwarded 
from  one  address  to  another.  The  Post-Office  files  all  orders  of 


ARRESTED  IN  BALTIMORE. 


3T9 


this  nature,  and  upon  turning  to  this  file  the  postal-card  William- 
son had  written,  asking  that  letters  addressed  to  him  be  sent  to 
the  Windsor  Hotel,  was  found.  The  writing  on  this  card  was 
identical  with  that  of  “Gentleman  Joe.” 

The  detective  at  once  visited  the  Windsor  Hotel  and  found 
that  Williamson  had  registered  there  on  February  17,  just  be- 
fore the  persecution  of  Dr.  Dix  began,  and  had  left  the  hotel  only 
that  day  for  Baltimore.  He  had  left  directions  at  the  Windsor  to 
have  his  letters  sent  to  Barnum’s  Hotel,  in  Baltimore,  and  Super- 
intendent Gaylor  traced  him  through  his  letters  to  a private 
boarding-house  in  that  city. 

Williamson  was  arrested  in  this  boarding-house  and  charged 
with  being  the  author  of  the  annoyances  to  which  the  pastor  of 
Trinity  had  been  subjected.  He  at  once  admitted  that  he  had 
written  all  the  offensive  cards  and  letters,  and  caused  Dr.  Dix’s 
sudden  popularity  with  the  trades  and  professions,  but  he  said  that 
he  had  no  motive  except  the  fun  of  watching  the  besieged  house,  of 
reading  about  the  matter  in  the  newspapers,  and  of  puzzling  the 
detectives.  He  said  that  neither  Dr.  Dix  nor  any  of  the  persons 
to  whom  he  had  written  had  ever  annoyed  or  injured  him,  and 
that  he  only  selected  the  rector  of  Trinity  because  he  considered 
that  his  distinguished  name,  his  standing  as  a minister  and  his 
popularity  in  the  community,  made  him  an  eminently  available 
person  to  have  fun  with. 

The  career  of  Williamson,  or  that  much  of  it  as  was  afterward 
learned,  shows  him  to  have  led  an  extraordinary  life.  He  had 
apparently  given  himself  up  to  the  commission  of  small  crimes 
and  petty  offences,  not  with  the  object  of  making  anything  out 
of  them,  but  only  to  amuse  himself.  He  had  an  abnormal  fond- 
ness for  notoriety,  delighted  in  causing  a sensation  of  any  kind, 
and  was  very  fond  of  writing  letters. 

But  only  the  last  twelve  years  of  his  life  could  be  traced,  and 
who  or  what  he  was  previously  is  not  known.  In  1868  he  trav- 
elled extensively  in  Europe  as  an  English  gentleman,  calling 
himself  Eugene  Edward  Fairfax  Williamson.  Early  in  1870  he 
came  to  this  city,  where  he  spent  that  year  and  the  one  following. 
His  only  exploit  here  at  that  time  was  to  steal  a lot  of  fine 
stationery,  gold  pens  and  similar  articles  from  a shop  opposite 
the  Gilsey  House,  in  Broadway.  He  became  well  acquainted  with 
the  proprietor  of  this  shop,  and  made  use  of  the  confidence  re- 


32° 


A STRANGE  HISTORY. 


posed  in  him  to  steal  small  articles  upon  every  possible  occasion. 
Williamson  was  in  the  habit  of  boasting  of  his  experiences  in 
Turkey,  and  of  his  participation  in  vices  peculiar  to  the  East. 
He  became,  however,  a teacher  in  Trinity  Sunday-school. 

After  the  exposure  of  his  early  misdeeds  he  left  for  Europe, 
announcing  his  engagement  to  a certain  Countess  de  Maralles. 
He  was  not  married,  however,  but  went  to  London,  where  he 
played  a series  of  tricks  upon  a well-known  Hebrew  gentleman 
similar  to  those  with  which  he  afterward  persecuted  Dr.  Dix. 
He  sent  out  the  same  kind  of  invitations  and  business  proposals 
in  this  gentleman’s  name,  and  hired  a room  opposite  his  house 
from  which  to  witness  the  fun.  He  was  detected  by  the  London 
police,  tried,  convicted  and  sentenced  to  Newgate  for  one  year. 

After  serving  this  sentence,  he  returned  to  America  in  1875, 
and  took  up  his  residence  in  Pittsburg.  He  moved  in  the  best 
society  there  and  always  had  plenty  of  money.  The  source  of 
his  income  still  continues  a mystery,  since,  as  has  been  said,  he 
kept  no  bank  account,  and  had  apparently  no  resources  except 
swindling,  though,  as  the  only  swindles  that  were  ever  discovered 
dealt  with  very  small  amounts,  these  could  not  have  fur- 
nished him  with  the  amount  of  money  he  expended.  It  is 
possible  that  he  perpetrated  larger  frauds,  which  were  never 
discovered,  but  if  he  did  he  was  the  most  adroit  and  skilful  thief 
that  ever  operated  in  America.  During  his  residence  in  Pitts- 
burg, he  swindled  several  New  York  and  Philadelphia  jewellery 
firms  out  of  small  amounts.  Another  strange  feature  of  his 
extraordinary  career  is  the  circumstance  that  he  wrote  a great 
deal  of  poetry,  and  even  had  a play  produced,  his  literary  efforts 
meeting  favorable  recognition  by  the  newspapers  in  New  York 
and  other  cities.  These  works  were  afterward  discovered  to  be 
the  productions  of  a nun  in  a New  Orleans  convent,  but  under 
what  circumstances  he  had  procured  them  is  not  known,  nor  has 
the  identity  of  the  real  author  ever  been  disclosed. 

“Gentleman  Joe”  came  to  New  York  from  Pittsburg,  and  at 
once  began  his  peculiar  system  of  tormenting  Dr.  Dix,  as  has 
been  related.  He  was  convicted  of  an  attempt  at  blackmail  and 
sentenced  to  a term  in  Sing  Sing  prison,  where  he  died.  The 
secret  of  his  life  and  conduct,  if  indeed  there  is  any  mystery 
aside  from  the  circumstance  that  his  mind  was  disordered,  died 
with  him. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


A LAW-BREAKER  AS  KNOWN  BY  HIS  FAMILY. — SOME  MISCONCEPTIONS. 
— NOT  AN  AGENT  OF  THE  ASSOCIATED  PRESS. — PHILIP  SCHUY- 
LER OR  JOHN  SPICER  ? — A FIFTY-YEAR-OLD  SON  WHO  DIDN’T 
. KNOW  HIS  FATHER. — A SOMEWHAT  COMPLICATED  WILL  CASE. — 
ISAAC  M.  SINGER  AND  HIS  MANY  WIVES. — FIRST  A STROLLING 
PLAYER  AND  THEN  A MILLIONAIRE. — CHARACTERISTICS  OF  CRIM- 
INALS.  WHAT  MAKES  A LAW-BREAKER. THE  FIRST  STEP  IN 

EVIL-DOING. — THE  HARRIS  FAMILY. 

It  is  a preconceived  and  not  always  well-founded  notion  of  the 
vast  majority  of  persons  that  men  who  war  upon  society  must  of 
necessity  bear  the  brand  of  their  evil  doings  on  their  brows.  This 
is  not  so.  As  chief  of  police  of  one  of  the  greatest  cities  of  the 
world,  I have  been  brought  into  personal  contact  with  the  most 
consummate  criminals.  With  few  exceptions,  the  men  who  have 
been  accredited  with  the  most  daring  violations  of  the  law  have 
been  persons  who  could  not  have  been  marked  by  the  most  learned 
physiognomist  as  of  accommodating  morals.  As  a rule,  a man  to 
be  a successful  criminal  must  be  an  individual  of  rare  cunning, 
great  determination,  and  capable  of  masking  his  real  character 
under  the  guise  of  a respectable  and  respected  member  of  society. 
I speak,  be  it  remembered,  only  of  the  more  dreaded  enemies  of 
good  order.  Thieves,  pickpockets,  highway  robbers  and  men  capa- 
ble of  brutal  crime  are  marked  even  to  the  most  unsophisticated 
citizen.  Criminals  who  live  by  their  wits,  generally  termed 
swindlers,  are  almost  without  exception  persons  of  winning  address 
and  fascinating  manners.  In  fact,  without  this  power  to  engage 
the  attention  and  secure  the  confidence  of  their  victim,  their 
careers  would  not  be  very  profitable.  Law-breakers  are  compelled 
by  the  exigencies  of  civilization  to  lead  double  lives.  They  are 
children  of  the  serpent — smooth,  glistening,  charming,  only  to 
spring  upon  the  unsuspecting  and  enjoy  the  results  of  their 
trickery.  A friend  relates  the  following  : 

“ I once  knew  a retired  gambler.  He  had  kept  a 1 hell  ’ on  Bar- 


322 


AN  ASSOCIATED  PRESS  AGENT. 


clay  Street  for  many  years,  and  had  lost  the  end  of  his  nose — 
bitten  off  in  a fight.  One  of  his  fingers  was  also  missing,  from 
the  same  cause.  I was  a boy  when  I first  met  the  man,  and  was 
much  more  afraid' of  him  then  than  I was  of  any  boat,  horse,  or 
gun,  as  my  subsequent  experience  on  the  police  force  had  not  yet 
taught  me  that  most  villains  are  only  villanous  at  certain  times, 
and  in  the  regular  course  of  their  evil  deeds.  He  was,  however, 
of  a mild  and  placid  demeanor  and  engaging  conversation.  I 
gradually  got  accustomed  to  him,  and  finally  became  fond  of  him. 
One  day  he  was  sitting  beside  me,  smoking  a cigar,  when  suddenly 
we  heard  the.  shriek  of  a child.  The  retired  gambler  evidently 
recognized  the  voice,  for  he  immediately  dashed  round  a corner  in 
the  direction  of  the  cry,  and  quickly  reappeared,  tenderly  carrying 
his  daughter’s  child  in  his  arms.  A dog  had  jumped  against  it 
and  knocked  it  down  in  the  road.  He  hugged  and  kissed  the 
little  one  with  all  the  fervor  of  a woman,  brushing  its  hair,  wiping 
its  eyes  and  loading  it  with  caresses.  But  he  was  a rogue  and  a 
swindler  for  all  that. 

Comparatively  little  is  known  of  the  lives  of  many  persons  in 
New  York.  Acquaintances  are  formed  which  ripen  into  intimacy 
among  men  and  women  who  know  nothing  of  one  another’s  past 
history,  and  there  are  many  who  pass  for  being  thoroughly  respect- 
able whose  lives  would  not  bear  much  scrutiny. 

Not  very  many  years  ago  a family  resided  on  Lexington  Ave- 
nue, the  members  of  which  were  popular  and  well  liked  among 
their  neighbors.  The  wife  was  a pretty  and  hospitable  little 
woman,  and  the  two  daughters — bright,  engaging  and  well-bred 
girls — were  just  coming  of  age.  In  fact,  it  was  as  happy  a little 
family  as  could  be  found  anywhere,  and  everything  about  the 
house  was  well  ordered.  The  husband  was  tall  and  gaunt,  and 
was  somewhat  irregular  in  his  hours  and  habits.  This  fact,  how- 
ever, was  accounted  for  by  the  fact  that  he  was  supposed  to  be 
connected  with  the  Associated  Press.  For  more  than  four  years 
the  relations  of  a friend  with  the  family  were  of  the  most  intimate 
nature,  and  he  never  had  the  slightest  suspicion  that  there  was 
anything  “ crooked  ” about  them,  until  one  night  when  he 
happened  to  be  in  a gambling-house  up  town,  where  there  was  a 
very  brisk  game  of  baccarat  in  progress.  About  forty  gentlemen, 
all  more  or  less  well  known  about  town  and  of  good  position,  were 
seated  around  the  green  table,  and  two  young  men  who  had 


SCENE  IN  A GAMBLING  HELL. 


323 


bought  the  bank  were  winning  money  very  rapidly.  Everybody 
else  was  losing.  The  faces  of  most  of  the  men  looked  solemn  and 
ill-natured ; a few  were  flushed,  while  others  were  as  calm  and 
imperturbable  as  though  carved  out  of  marble.  The  run  of  luck  in 
favor  of  the  bank  was  evidently  something  out  of  the  common.  A 
smooth-faced  young  fellow  who  sat  inside  a big  iron  cage  and  sold 
chips  to  the  players,  had  climbed  upon  his  desk  so  as  to  get  a good 
view  of  the  table;  and  even  the  waiters,  usually  so  obedient  and 
prompt  of  service,  forgot  to  fill  orders.  At  one  end  of  the  table 
the  cards  were  dealt  to  a young  man  who  had  been  losing  heavily, 
and  whose  hand  shook  so  much  with  excitement  that  he  turned 
over  one  of  his  cards.  The  banker  saw  it.  The  flushed  player 
called  for  another  card.  It  was  turned  up  suddenly ; there  was  a 
“ false  play,”  and  an  instantaneous  howl  of  rage  (I  can  call  it  by 
no  other  name)  from  the  players.  All  the  men  were  heavy  loosers, 
and  matters  looked  very  squally. 

The  players  all  jumped  to  their  feet,  everybody  shouted  at  once, 
and  the  waiters  closed  the  doors.  A row  was  evidently  imminent. 
Suddenly,  the  attendant  in  his  iron  cage  rang  a bell ; the  door  of 
the  adjoining  room  opened  quickly,  and  was  then  closed  again 
with  a bang  which  could  be  heard  above  the  babel  of  voices.  The 
heads  of  all  were  turned  towards  the  doorway — my  friend’s  along 
with  the  rest — and  there  stood  that  very  respectable  head  of  the 
very  respectable  family  who  resided  on  Lexington  Avenue,  and 
with  whom  my  friend  had  been  so  intimate  for  four  years  or  more. 
He  was  precisely  as  he  always  seemed ; his  frock  coat  hung  in 
loose  folds  upon  his  gaunt  figure  ; there  was  a cigar  in  his  mouth  ; 
his  cold,  blue  eyes  were  as  devoid  of  animation  as  ever. 

Immediately  upon  his  entrance  he  was  appealed  to  by  a dozen 
different  individuals.  He  asked  whether  a decision  by  him  would 
be  accepted  as  final.  And  the  answer  of  the  majority  was  in  the 
affirmative.  Then  he  entered  into  a lengthy  analysis  of  the  rules 
of  the  game  on  the  point  in  dispute.  He  spoke  with  labored  po- 
liteness, and  looked  around  from  face  to  face  with  a forced  smile 
as  each  word  was  spoken.  He  finally  wound  up  by  saying : 

“There  can’t  be  a question  or  doubt,  gentlemen,  about  this  de- 
cision. I have  known  the  point  to  come  up  fifty  times  in  Paris, 
and  so  universally  is  the  ruling  understood  that  it  no  longer  raises 
even  a word.  It  is  accepted  at  once  as  final.” 

That  settled  it,  and  within  ten  minutes  the  game  was  in  full 


324  PHILIP  SCHUYLER  OR  JOHN  SPICER. 

blast  again,  and  half  a case  of  champagne  had  been  disposed  of. 
That  is  the  sort  of  Associated  Press  agent  the  gaunt  gentleman 
with  the  highly  respectable  family  was.  His  wife  may  have 
known  all  about  his  business,  but  it  is  doubtful  if  his  daughters 
did. 

It  is  astonishing  how  thoroughly  things  can  be  concealed  in 
New  York.  Men  lead  double  lives  for  years  without  any  one 
being  the  wiser.  Persons  have  even  been  known  to  support  two 
establishments  within  a very  short  distance  of  each  other — two 
wives,  two  families — and  yet  the  fact  has  only  come  to  light 
after  death. 

Philip  Schuyler,  the  railroad  millionaire  of  twenty  years  ago, 
was  one  of  these  two-faced  individuals.  He  was  known  by  his 
family,  who  lived  up  town,  as  John  Spicer.  He  did  business  on 
the  Stock  Exchange,  and  maintained  an  office  at  No.  10  Broad 
Street,  under  the  name  of  Philip  Schuyler.  And  the  way  in  which 
the  whole  thing  was  discovered  was  this  : 

A young  fellow  and  companion,  as  they  walked  Broadway, 
passed  a handsome  gentleman  to  whom  they  both  bowed.  One  said  : 
“ Why,  Bob  Spicer,  how  came  you  to  know  that  man  ? I didn’t 
know  you  knew  him.” 

“Well,  yes,  I know  him  slightly,”  said  young  Spicer  sarcastically. 
“ Why  shouldn’t  I,  seeing  he’s  my  father  ? ” 

“ Your  father  ! ” exclaimed  the  other  with  a laugh  ; “ not  much  ! 
That’s  Philip  Schuyler.” 

“ ’Tain’t  either,”  exclaimed  Bob  Spicer,  excitedly.  “ Don’t  I 
know  my  own  father  ? What  are  you  talking  about  ? Haven’t  I 
seen  him  every  day  since  I could  remember  ? ” 

“ But  have  you  seen  him  evenings,  Bob  ? ” 

“ No,  he  works  down  town  evenings.” 

“ Works  ! I tell  you  he’s  a Fifth  Avenue  swell,  Schuyler  is ; and 
he  goes  to  all  the  Patriarch  Club’s  parties  and  balls  ; and  he  is  a 
bachelor,  and  he  is  sweet  on  my  Aunt  Emma;  and  he  plays  bill- 
iards at  our  house  every  few  evenings.  They  say  he’s  awful  rich.” 
“ See  here,”  said  Bob  to  his  companion;  “if you  go  on  talking 
that  way  we  can’t  be  friends  any  more.  Talk’s  cheap.  Come 
home  with  me  at  five  o’clock,  and  see  what  mother  says  about  it. 
Father  will  be  there  too.” 

Thus  it  came  about  that  the  matter  was  investigated,  and  Bob 
found  that  his  loving  and  indulgent  father,  John  Spicer,  was  known 


ANOTHER  DUAL  LIFE. 


325 


on  the  Stock  Exchange  and  at  No.  10  Broad  Street  as  the  rail- 
road magnate  and  bachelor  millionaire,  Philip  Schuyler. 

Not  more  than  two  or  three  years  ago  there  was  a contest  before 
the  New  York  Surrogate  over  the  will  of  William  Austin.  He 
was  an  importer  of  Scotch  linens,  and  died  in  1875,  leaving  personal 
property  to  his  wife  valued  at  $800,000,  together  with  a house  on 
West  Twenty-third  Street,  in  which  they  had  lived  for  many  years 
and  reared  a large  family.  Down  town,  on  Cedar  Street,  where  he 
had  his  office,  he  was  known  as  William  Hutchinson,  and  none  of 
his  business  acquaintances  ever  suspected  him  of  being  married  or 
having  a family.  In  church  he  was  known  as  Austin  and  on  the 
Stock  Board  as  Hutchinson.  A most  remarkable  fact  in  connection 
with  this  case  is  that  Mr.  Austin- Hutchinson  lived  this  double 
life  undiscovered  for  more  than  fifty  years. 

When  he  died  his  oldest  son  was  fifty-one  years  old,  and  the 
next,  forty-six.  But  these  two  old  boys  do  not  seem  ever  to  have 
suspected  that  they  were  anything  else  than  unadulterated  Austins; 
or  that  they  had  an  enterprising  and  acquisitive  relation  named 
“ Hutchinson,”  doing  a good  deal  of  business  in  Cedar  Street,  with 
his  gilt  sign  out  over  the  sidewalk — “ Hutchinson  ” — for  fifty  years, 
working  six  hours  every  day,  doing  millions  of  dollars  worth  of  bus- 
iness. They  never  discovered  that  he  was  else  than  the  respect- 
able  and  domestic  Austin  of  Twenty-third  Street ! Austin  for 
fifty  years,  for  eighteen  hours  of  the  day  and  night,  and  never 
once  inopportunely  revealed  as  Hutchinson  of  the  Stock  Board, 
and  the  note-shaver  of  Cedar  Street  ! It  seems  to  me  that  that 
fifty-year-old  boy  could  not  have  been  very  wide  awake. 

I remember  a very  strange  revelation  about  a will,  contested 
more  than  thirty  years  ago  in  our  Surrogate  Court.  In  the  old 
times  there  was  a very  stylish  house  of  prostitution  in  Chambers 
Street,  known  as  “ The  Palace  of  Mirrors  ” — the  name  being  de- 
scriptive of  the  place.  It  was  kept  by  a famous  courtesan  named, 
or  at  any  rate  called,  Kate  Ridgeway.  She  was  brilliant,  refined 
looking,  and  with  modest  manners,  and  she  sometimes  got  into  a 
box  at  the  opera  without  attracting  undue  attention,  except  from 
the  men  about  town  to  whom  her  face  was  known.  Years  and 
years  passed.  She  was  prudent.  She  became  wealthy.  Suddenly 
the  house  was  closed,  Kate  disappeared  from  view,  and  nobody 
knew  whither  she  had  gone. 

Some  years  afterward  a lady  of  distinguished  appearance, 


326  “ MY  DEAR  DAUGHTER.” 

of  about  middle  age,  took  up  her  residence  on  Fifth  Avenue  with 
her  wealthy  husband,  and,  to  a certain  extent,  was  admitted  into 
the  select  society  of  that  thoroughfare.  They  thrived.  A circle  of 
friends  assembled  about  them.  They  were  prominent  members  of 
a fashionable  church.  Their  name  was  foremost  in  conspicuous 
charities.  Her  husband,  a retired  hardware  merchant  of  Warren 
Street,  died  a couple  of  years  later,  leaving  her  a comfortable  fort- 
une. She  left  here  for  a residence  in  a moderate-sized  Western 
city,  where  she  was  regarded  as  a very  wealthy  woman. 

After  awhile  she  returned  here  and  died,  and  her  will  was  pre- 
sented for  probate  in  the  Surrogate  Court.  Objections  were  filed 
by  a very  beautiful  and  accomplished  young  lady,  who  claimed  to 
be  her  only  daughter.  The  will  bequeathed  the  bulk  of  the  prop- 
erty to  her  niece,  a Philadelphia  woman.  The  evidence  brought 
to  light  the  origin  of  the  parties  and  their  relations. 

The  testatrix  proved  to  be  no  other  than  the  famous  Kate  Ridge- 
way. She  was  the  sis.er  of  Matilda  Heron,  the  powerful  but  ec- 
centric tragic  actress,  who  was  the  first  representative  Camille  in 
the  English  language.  The  contestant  produced  some  forty  or 
fifty  letters  from  the  decedent,  in  which  the  writer  addressed  her 
as  “ My  Dear  Daughter,”  and  lawyers  ar.d  court  were  confounded 
by  the  marked  manifestations  of  affection  by  the  decedent,  and 
were  nonplussed  by  the  fact  that  the  object  of  these  terms  of  en- 
dearment was  disinherited  under  the  will.  The  claimant  was  strik- 
ingly handsome  and  refined,  about  twenty-two  years  old,  intelligent 
and  lady-like,  and  she  impressed  everybody  most  favorably. 
Pending  the  litigation,  the  attorney  for  the  will  bethought  himself 
to  inquire  of  the  records  to  see  if  a guardian  had  ever  been  ap- 
pointed for  this  mysterious  girl.  The  search  was  rewarded. 

It  was  found  that  her  real  name  was  Louise  West,  and  that  she 
was  the  child  of  the  keeper  of  an  assignation  house  in  the  rear  of 
the  Palace  of  Mirrors,  who,  on  dying,  left  her  property  to  Kate 
Ridgeway  for  the  benefit  and  education  of  her  child,  enjoining 
upon  her  that  it  should  be  used  for  her  maintenance  and  training, 
and  that  Louise  should  never  know  the  secret  of  her  birth.  The 
guardianship  had  been  respected  and  the  trust  carried  out.  When 
the  infant  arrived  at  sufficient  age  she  was  taken  from  the  Palace 
of  Mirrors  and  placed  in  the  Convent  of  the  Sacred  Heart  above 
the  city,  where  she  remained  during  several  years’  absence  of  her 
guardian  in  Europe.  On  the  return  from  Europe,  the  name  Bishop 


ISAAC  M.  SINGER. 


327 


was  substituted  for  West,  and  the  now  educated  young  woman 
was  taken  into  the  Fifth  Avenue  family  to  reside.  She  shortly 
married  without  her  guardian’s  consent,  and  left  the  city  with  her 
young  husband,  remaining  away  till  she  heard  of  her  “ mother’s  ” 
death.  The  whole  queer  business  being  cleared  up,  the  will  was 
admitted  to  probate. 

On  the  23d  of  July,  1875,  at  No.  83^  Boulevard  Malesherbes, 
Paris,  Isaac  M.  Singer  died,  aged  sixty-three  years.  In  1836, 
when  eighteen  years  old,  he  met  in  Baltimore  Mary  Ann  Spousle, 
a native  of  Carlisle,  Pennsylvania,  and  fell  in  love  with  her.  Her 
father  was  an  oyster-packer.  Singer  was  a strolling  player  and 
extremely  poor.  Travelling  about  the  country,  he  acted  in  temper- 
ance plays  in  churches.  He  told  Mary  Ann  that  he  was  already  mar- 
ried to  one  Catherine  ft^aria  Haley,  whom  he  had  left  for  cause, 
and  from  whom  he  proposed  to  get  a divorce.  He  induced  Mary 
Ann  to  go  to  New  York  with  him,  as  his  wife,  promising  to  marry 
her  after  procuiing  the  divorce.  The  latter  he  neglected  to  do, 
and  the  marriage  ceremony  was  never  performed.  About  a year 
after  this  arrangement  he  deserted  Mary  Ann,  and  she  returned 
to  her  father’s  home,  where  she  remained  until  1839.  Singer  and 
Mary  met  again  and  the  two  travelled  over  the  country  for  many 
years.  Mary  also  became  an  actor,  although  she  was  ignorant  and 
could  not  read.  She  lived  with  Singer  for  twenty-five  years,  and 
bore  him  ten  children.  For  thirteen  years  they  went  up  and  down 
the  country,  residing  at  different  times  in  Pittsburgh,  Pa. , Freder- 
icksburg, Ohio  ; and  Chicago.  They  were  still  very  poor. 

In  1838  Mr.  Singer  invented  a machine  for  drilling  rocks  by 
horse-power.  He  received  some  income  from  this.  He  also  in- 
vented a machine  for  carving  wood  types,  and  went  into  that  busi- 
ness in  Ohio.  As  an  actor  he  played  under  the  title  of  Isaac 
Merritt.  In  1850  he  perfected  his  first  sewing-machine,  and  came 
to  New  York  to  live,  on  Fifth  Street,  near  the  Bowery.  He  after- 
wards lived  on  Fourth  Avenue,  near  Twenty-seventh  Street,  and 
subsequently  at  No.  14  Fifth  Avenue,  then  in  Yonkers,  and  Paris. 

The  Singer  Manufacturing  Co.  was  started  with  a factory  on  Eliz- 
abeth Street,  and  a grand  office  on  Broadway,  at  the  corner  of 
Browne.  Money  flowed  in  and  the  Singers  became  wealthy.  At 
No.  14  Fifth  Avenue  they  kept  six  carriages  and  ten  horses,  and  a 
troupe  of  servants.  Mr.  Singer  always  introduced  Mary  as  his 
wife,  gave  her  money  to  pay  all  bills,  etc. 


328 


ARRESTED  FOR  WIFE-BEATING. 


Everything  went  well  until  August  7,  i860,  when  Mrs.  Singer 
took  a ride  up  Fifth  Avenue  in  her  coupe.  She  met  Mr.  Singer 
coming  down  the  avenue  in  an  open  carriage  with  one  Mary 
McGonigal.  Mrs.  Singer  was  astounded  at  Singer’s  apparent 
perfidy,  and  screamed.  She  then  drove  home,  and  found  Mr. 
Singer  there  waiting  for  her.  He  gave  her  a severe  beating,  and 
she  had  him  arrested  for  ill  treatment.  She  also  began  a suit  for 
divorce.  In  her  complaint  she  said  : 

“ During  the  whole  of  her  married  life  she  had  received  the  most  cruel  and  in- 
human treatment.  He  frequently  beat  and  choked  her  to  insensibility.  On 
August  7,  i860,  he  assaulted  her  at  No.  14  Fifth  Avenue.  He  beat  his  daughter 
Violetta,  until  she  became  insensible,  and  he  was  alarmed  for  her  recovery. 
He  was  finally  obliged  to  send  for  Dr.  Wm.  H.  Maxwell.  Mother  and  daughter 
were  both  confined  to  their  beds  several  days.  On  September  19,  i860,  Singer 
went  to  Europe  with  a woman  of  easy  virtue,  Kate  McGonigal,  aged  nineteen 
years.  They  sailed  from  Boston  under  assumed  names.  He  formerly  visited  her 
at  No.  40  Christopher  Street.  From  1855  to  i860  he  kept  as  his  mistress  Mary 
McGonigal,  sister  of  Kate.  Other  women  with  whom  it  is  known  he  had 
illicit  relations  were  Mary  Matthews,  a Mrs.  Judson,  an  operative  in  the  estab- 
lishment; Mary  Waters,  Ellen  Brazer  and  Ellen  Livingstone.  These  women 
bore  children  by  him.  Another  woman,  known  as  Lucy,  he  seduced  in  England, 
and  she  followed  him  to  this  country.  He  lived  with  her  at  No.  no  West 
Thirty-seventh  Street.  He  is  in  the  habit  of  seducing  his  female  operatives, 
and  employs  them  both  in  England  and  New  York  for  that  purpose.” 

The  divorce  was  never  procured,  since  the  lawyers  agreed  to  a 
compromise,  and  Judge  Barnard  ordered  the  papers  sealed  up  and 
returned  to  the  attorneys.  Singer  agreed  to  purchase  a house  for 
Mary,  and  support  her  family.  He  bought  the  house,  No.  189 
West  Twenty-eighth  Street,  for  $16,500  and  furnished  it.  He  paid 
$40  a week  for  the  care  of  the  children.  A few  weeks  after  this 
settlement  Mrs.  Singer  went  to  Boston,  where  she  was  married  to 
John  Edward  Foster,  a young  man,  twenty-five  years  old,  a railway 
clerk. 

When  the  Singer  will  was  probated  at  White  Plains,  N.  Y.,  in 
September,  1875,  Mrs.  Foster  appeared  in  person  to  contest  the 
will,  claiming  to  be  the  widow  of  Mr.  Singer.  At  the  close  of  tjie 
proceedings,  the  surrogate,  Judge  Coffin,  adjudged  that  Mary  Ann 
Foster  was  never  the  wife,  and  therefore  was  not  the  widow,  of 
Isaac  M.  Singer,  and  was  not  entitled  to  intervene. 

The  estate  left  by  Singer  amounted  in  round  numbers  to  fifteen 
millions  of  dollars.  It  has  largely  increased,  since  each  “ part  ” 
spoken  of  in  the  will  represented  $250,000. 


TWENTY-THREE  CH ILDREN. 


329 


In  his  will  Mr.  Singer  made  provision  for  the  following  persons : 

“ I give  to  my  wife,  Isabelle  Eugenia  Singer,  all  the  plate,  fur- 
niture, carriages,  etc.,  in  my  possession  ; also  the  house  and  lands 
belonging  thereto  which  I occupied  as  a home,  for  life,  and  after- 
wards to  her  children. 

To  my  children,  born  of  her  who  was  Maria  Haley  : to  William 
A.  Singer,  $500;  to  Lillian  A.  Singer,  $ 10,000 . 

The  rest  of  the  estate  shall  be  divided  into  sixty  equal  parts: 

To  Isabelle  Eugenie,  four  parts  ; 

To  Adam  Mortimer,  six  parts  ; 

To  Winnaretta  Eugenie,  five  parts ; 

To  Washington  Merritt  Grant,  six  parts ; 

To  Paris  Eugene,  six  parts ; 

To  Isabelle  Blanche,  five  parts  ; 

To  Franklin  Morse,  six  parts. 

I give  to  each  of  the  following  named  persons  whom  in  this,  my 
will,  I call  by  the  surname  of  Singer,  they  being  my  children,  born 
of  Mary  McGonigal,  of  San  Francisco,  and  who  is  commonly  called 
by  the  surname  of  Matthews  : 

To  Ruth  Merrit,  two  parts  ; 

To  Clara,  two  parts  •, 

To  Florence  Adelaide,  two  parts  ; 

To  Margaret  Alexandria,  two  parts  ; 

To  Charles  Alexander,  two  parts ; 

To  Alice,  born  of  Mary  E.  Walter,  of  New  York,  commonly 
called  Merritt,  two  parts. 

To  each  of  the  following  persons  whom  I call  Singer,  my  child- 
ren, born  of  her  who  is  now  known  as  Mary  Ann  Foster,  of  New 
York : 

To  Isaac  Augustus,  two  parts ; 

To  Violetta  Theresa,  nothing; 

To  John  Albert,  two  parts: 

To  Fanny  Elizabeth,  one  part ; 

To  Joseph  Carnet,  one  part; 

To  Mary  Olive,  one  part ; 

To  Julia  Ann,  one  part,  and 

To  Caroline  Virginia,  two  parts. 

But  to  return  to  “ respectable  ” criminals.  Look  at  the  “ confi- 
dence ” man,  or  “bunco  steerer,”  for  instance.  The  greater  part 
of  his  stock-in-trade  consists  of  his  wardrobe  and  his  personal  at- 


33°  “respectable”  criminals. 

tractions  Without  good  clothing  and  good  looks  he  would  be 
unfit  for  his  business.  In  making  up  his  general  appearance 
his  fashionable  attire,  of  course,  goes  a great  way.  He  must  be 
careful,  too,  not  to  offend  the  susceptibility  of  his  intended  victims 
by  any  “ loudness  ” in  his  dress,  or  anything  that  makes  him  singu- 
lar or  conspicuous.  The  “ confidence  ” man,  therefore,  carefully 
avoids  anything  remarkable  in  his  address,  seeking,  rather,  the 
general  appearance  of  easy  respectability.  A sprinkling  of  gray 
hairs  is  a great  help  to  him  in  his  operations.  A bald  head  and  a 
clerical  figure  is  positively  a fortune.  His  hands  must  be  white 
and  delicate,  and  his  voice  softly  modulated.  With  such  an  “out- 
fit,” together  with  an  immaculate  shirt  and  collar,  he  has  the  “ open 
sesame”  to  the  wallets  of  his  “dear  friends”  from  the  country. 
When  on  the  look-out  for  a “ pigeon  ” no  one  could  be  more  diffi- 
dent and  retiring.  He  is  politeness  itself,  and  no  amount  of  push- 
ing, crushing  or  crowding  can  put  him  out  of  temper. 

The  bank  thief  dresses  well,  lives  well,  and  is,  in  fact,  upon  the 
highest  plane  of  criminal  life.  He  must,  like  the  “ confidence  ” 
operator,  be  a person  of  good  address ; and,  above  all,  must  have 
some  pretensions  to  good  looks.  Good  pickpockets  (if  there  are 
any),  those  who  “ work  ” the  largest  kind  of  game,  are  generally 
well  and  stylishly  dressed,  easy  in  their  manners  and  correct  in 
speech.  The  hotel  thief  is  usually  a man  of  suave  and  polished 
manners.  Ask  him  a question  as  he  strolls  about  the  corridors  of 
the  hotel  which  he  has  selected  as  his  field  of  operations.  His 
answer  is  always  ready,  and  you  can  touch  upon  no  subject  with 
which  he  does  not  appear  to  be  perfectly  familiar.  Well  dressed, 
of  good  appearance,  the  more  you  see  and  converse  with  him  the 
better  you  like  him.  He  can  suit  his  ways,  too,  to  the  company 
in  which  he  may  happen  to  be — laughing  with  those  who  laugh, 
and  sympathetic  or  dignified  with  those  who  are  sorrowful  and 
sedate.  You  may  meet  him  at  one  hotel  by  the  name  of  Brown, 
and  a week  later  at  another  by  that  of  Robinson.  But  this  little  % 
apparent  inconsistency  doesn’t  trouble  him  in  the  least.  Re- 
mind him  of  it,  and  he  is  ready  with  some  pleasant  little  fic- 
tion which  it  is  ten  to  one  will  pull  the  wool  over  your  eyes  in  the 
most  complete  manner. 

Shop-lifters  are  dangerous,  too,  as  far  as  detecting  them  by 
their  attire  is  concerned.  It  has  frequently  happened  that  a man 
and  a couple  of  women  of  this  class  have  gone  about  the  city 


HOW  ARE  THIEVES  MADE  ? 


331 


during  the  holiday  season,  when  stores  are  crowded,  in  a carriage 
with  servants  in  livery  and  other  surroundings  equal  to  their  pre- 
tentions, riding  from  place  to  place,  robbing  as  they  went.  They 
gc  .nto  our  best  and  largest  jewellers’,  silk-merchants’,  and  lace 
shops  rustling  in  silk  or  robed  in  velvet  and  satin;  and  yet  all 
the  time,  and  none  the  less,  they  are  thieves. 

Even  the  burglar,  that  nightmare  of  the  householder,  is  very 
rarely  brave  ; and  it  is  only  when  driven  into  a corner,  and  at 
bay,  that  he  becomes  bold  and  desperate.  The  burglar  would 
much  rather  run  than  fight.  Frighten  him,  and  if  there  is  a chance 
to  escape  he  will  avail  himself  of  it. 

I have  known  thieves,  brutal  and  murderous  enough,  if  disturbed 
when  engaged  in  any  depredation,  who  in  their  homes  were  kind 
husbands  and  affectionate  fathers.  For  years  they  have  con- 
cealed the  nature  of  their  “work”  from  their  families;  their 
wives  living  lives  of  respectability  and  comfortable  confidence. 

The  question  has  been  very  often  asked  me : “ How  are 
thieves  made — what  makes  them  commit  their  first  crime  ? ” It 
is  a difficult  one  to  answer.  It  is  not  always  the  naturally  vicious 
men  who  join  the  ranks  of  our  great  army  of  criminals.  Over 
and  over  again  instances  have  come  to  my  notice  where  young 
men,  and  women,  too,  who  have  been  well  bred,  and  whose  nat- 
ural traits  are  far  from  vicious,  have  drifted  (and  I can  find  no 
better  word  in  the  English  language)  into  crime  purely  and  sim- 
ply through  want.  Their  first  offence  escaped  detection,  and  they 
have  thus  been  induced  to  follow  it  as  a business  or  profession. 
There  is  a certain  young  man  now  serving  out  a sentence  of  seven 
and  a half  years  at  Sing  Sing  for  various  burglaries,  whose  ex- 
periences will  illustrate  what  I mean. 

When  he  first  came  to  New  York,  the  young  man  in  question 
was  as  modest,  quiet  and  respectable  as  could  well  be  imag- 
ined. His  references  were  excellent,  and  he  had  no  trouble  in 
obtaining  a situation  in  a down-town  wholesale  house,  where  he 
soon  gained  the  confidence  of  his  employers.  Consequent  upon 
the  general  depression  in  business  which  occurred  in  1884,  he 
was  discharged,  along  with  numbers  of  others.  Day  after  day, 
week  after  week,  he  tramped  the  streets,  going  from  store  to  store 
seeking  work.  The  little  money  he  had  saved  was  soon  gone, 
and  then  an  unpaid  board  bill  stared  him  in  the  face. 

With  no  friends  to  aid  him,  it  is  no  wonder  he  became  desper- 


332 


HEREDITARY  VICIOUSNESS. 


ate.  An  idea  entered  his  head,  and  one  evening  he  left  his  board 
ing-house,  taking  with  him  all  the  keys  he  could  find.  He  had 
determined  to  raise  money  in  some  way,  and,  as  honest  labor 
offered  him  no  opportunity,  he  determined  to  try  house-break 
ing.  One  of  the  keys  in  the  bunch  which  he  had  enabled  him 
to  open  a house  in  a certain  side  street,  and  entering  one  of  the 
rooms,  he  stole  a quantity  of  jewellery  and  made  his  escape 
without  being  detected.  The  pawn-shop  was  resorted  to,  and  he 
thus  obtained  funds  with  which  to  get  along  for  a time. 

Now  the  success  attending  him  in  his  first  robbery  deceived  him. 
If  he  had  been  caught  then  and  there  the  chances  are  ten  to  one 
that  his  whole  future  would  have  been  changed.  But  success  in 
his  first  venture  ruined  him.  He  went  on  and  on  in  the  down- 
ward path  until,  when  he  was  arrested,  he  confessed  to  as  many  as 
forty  burglaries.  His  career  is  but  a sample  of  several  which 
have  come  under  my  observation.  Want  and  starvation  drive 
many  more  into  crime  than  most  persons  imagine.  Education  in 
crime  by  professional  thieves  is  not  the  cause  of  making  half  as 
many  criminals  as  is  the  fact  that  young  men  of  much  more  than 
average  ability  are  fairly  driven  to  thievery  by  want,  and  also 
the  fact  that  they  can  see  no  way  of  making  an  honest  living  in 
the  immediate  future. 

On  the  other  hand,  however,  it  is  wrong  to  say  that  there  is  no 
such  thing  as  hereditary  viciousness.  There  is,  and  I’m  sorry  to  say 
I’ve  seen  plenty  of  it.  Take  the  case  of  the  Harris  family.  Five 
of  the  brothers  are  now  in  prison  ! Just  think  of  it.  A drunken 
mother  with  seven  sons,  only  the  two  youngest  of  whom  are 
not  within  the  clutch  of  the  law.  What  a picture  ! Four  strap- 
ping young  men,  who  might,  if  they  had  started  aright,  be  earn- 
ing a good  living  to-day ! Save  the  wages  of  stripes  and  hard 
labor  for  a convict  contractor,  they  have  earned  little  from  their  ^ 
arduous  profession  of  thieving.  Few  tenements  in  the.  city  were 
more  bare  of  comforts  than  those  which  they  and  their  female 
companions  inhabited.  There  were  no  carpets  on  the  floor  and 
nothing  which  could  be  termed  “furniture,”  even  by  the  greatest 
stretch  of  the  imagination.  But  what  hard  work  they  endured  to 
obtain  all  this , what  nights  of  peril  and  discomfort  while  watch- 
ing and  waiting  for  a chance  to  “ crack  a crib  ” ; what  weeks  of 
hiding  in  garrets  and  cellars  from  the  police ; what  hard  bargains 
driven  with  unscrupulous  “ fences  ” ; what  constant  calls  for  drink- 


AN  AGED  JAIL-BIRD. 


333 


money  by  the  mother  who  had  done  more  than  her  share  in  help- 
ing them  into  the  harness  of  crime  ; and,  on  top  of  this,  fifty  years 
between  them  of  an  existence  seen  through  an  iron  grating. 

Again,  only  recently,  I noticed  the  case  of  a man  who  was 
eighty  years  of  age,  tottering  on  the  edge  of  the  grave,  who 
actually  begged  the  judge  of  a circuit  court  in  Indiana  to  sentence 
him  to  such  a term  of  imprisonment  as  would  enable  him  to  spend 
his  few  remaining  days  in  jail.  Forty  years  he  had  passed  behind 
brick  walls  and  iron  gratings ; no  sooner  had  he  been  released  on 
one  sentence,  than  he  had  committed  another  crime  in  order  to 
prolong  his  life  behind  the  bars.  His  last  offence  was  burglary, 
and  in  response  to  the  questions  of  the  court  told  a story  of  crime 
which  indicated  as  near  an  approach  to  total  depravity  as  can  well 
be  imagined. 

Said  he  : “I  have  no  relatives,  no  friends  and  no  money.  I 
would  rather  be  in  prison  than  in  the  poor-house.  I will  not  beg, 
and  I want  to  pass  the  remainder  of  my  life  in  the  penitentiary. 
Yes,  Judge,  send  me  up  for  just  such  time  as  you  like.  I don’t 
know  how  long  I will  live.  I cannot  say  that  five  years  will  be 
enough.” 

And  the  old  man’s  face  wore  a contented,  happy  expression 
when  he  heard  his  sentence  of  five  years’  imprisonment — a punish- 
ment which  to  some  men  would  be  as  the  crack  of  doom,  but 
v/hich  to  him  was  as  an  invitation  to  partake  of  a good  meal. 

Such  instances  as  these  are  almost  sufficient  to  arouse  a sus- 
picion in  the  minds  of  most  persons  that  there  must  be  something 
radically  wrong  in  our  social  system,  or  else  the  mode  of  punish- 
ment for  crimes  committed  cannot  be  sufficiently  severe. 

The  intention  of  the  law  is  not  so  much  the  punishment  of  any 
one  thief  who  may  be  captured,  as  to  deter  others  from  committing 
similar  crimes.  On  not  a few  criminals  the  best  efforts  of  the 
philanthropist  are  completely  lost.  Their  efforts  are  as  futile  as 
carrying  water  in  a sieve.  The  most  irksome  manual  labor  and 
most  rigid  discipline  should  be  the  portion  of  such  men. 

Upon  the  other  hand,  those  convicted  of  a first  offence  should 
be  dealt  with  leniently.  My  conviction  for  a number  of  years  has 
been  that  criminals  should  be  made  to  understand  distinctly, 
upon  their  conviction,  that  their  punishment  will  be  carried  out 
in  the  most  rigid  and  inflexible  manner — that  they  have  nothing 
to  hope  for  in  the  way  of  a pardon.  Of  course,  I believe  it  to  be 


334 


A GIGANTIC  PROBLEM. 


perfectly  right  to  offer  premiums  for  good  conduct  in  the  shape  of 
a reduction  of  their  sentence , but  so-called  “ philanthropists  ” do 
far  more  harm  than  good  by  their  promiscuous  and  ill-directed 
struggles  for  the  relief  of  the  imprisoned.  Men  who  are  desirous 
of  reforming  and  leading  a correct  life  in  the  future  should  be 
afforded  every  facility  to  do  so,  and  encouraged  in  their  en- 
deavors. 

The  problem  is  a gigantic  one,  and  its  solution  this  side  of  the 
millennium  is  a matter  of  doubt. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


FORGERS  AND  FORGING. — THE  ARISTOCRATIC  AND  WEALTHY  MEXICAN 
DOCTOR. — “A  MOST  CONSUMMATE  VILLAIN.” — THE  SUNDAY- 
SCHOOL  TEACHER  WHO  FORGED  CHECKS  FOR  $250,000. — THREE 
MEN  WHO  CAME  FROM  A HOUSE  IN  ALLEN  STREET  ON  A DARK 
WINTER’S  NIGHT. — HOW  JAMES  A.  GARFIELD  WAS  NEARLY  DE- 
FEATED.— THE  FORGER  WITH  BLACK  EYES  AND  RAVEN  HAIR. — 
LORD  ASHBURTON  AND  HIS  ROMANTIC  CAREER. ROCKY  MOUN- 

TAIN BLACK-MAILERS. — THE  UNION  BANK  OF  LONDON  FORGERIES. 

In  1874  there  lived  at  No.  50  East  Fifty-third  Street,  New  York 
City,  a man  whose  name  was  as  complex  as  his  character.  Dr.  Gabor 
Nephegyi,  for  such  was  this  person’s  name,  was  a gentleman  whom 
many  prominent  New  Yorkers  felt  proud  to  say  they  knew.  He 
was  to  them  a man  of  enormous  wealth.  He  lived  in  a fashionable 
part  of  the  city  and  lived  gorgeously.  His  house  was  elaborately 
furnished.  The  works  of  art,  the  books,  the  tapestries  and  Persian 
rugs  with  which  the  building  seemed  crowded,  demonstrated  that 
there  was  no  vulgarity  about  this  man’s  riches.  He  was  unmis- 
takably a man  of  taste,  education  and  refinement.  His  conver- 
sational powers  were  extraordinary.  He  had  travelled  extensively, 
and  seemed  well  posted  on  a great  variety  of  subjects.  He  was 
said  to  be  a member  of  the  New  York  Historical  Society,  as  also 
of  the  Geographical  Society,  and  he  frequently  entertained  his 
fellow  members  at  his  house.  These  receptions  were  always  the 
envy  of  those  who  could  not  attend  them,  and  those  who  came 
once  seldom  remained  away  when  the  next  one  occurred. 

Why  this  attractive  man  was  called  Doctor  was  never  clearly  as- 
certained. He  was  known  to  be  a Mexican,  and  that  covered  a 
multitude  of  curious  questions.  All  sorts  of  explanations  were 
made  by  those  who  admired  the  grandeur  of  his  turn-out  as  he 
rolled  in  his  carriages  over  the  avenues  or  through  the  Park.  No 
livery  was  quite  so  faultless  as  his,  no  coachmen  understood  quite 
so  well  their  business.  His  horses  were  magnificent  specimens 
of  brutes,  and  none  in  the  city  stepped  along  more  proudly.  The 

335 


336  A BOMBSHELL  IN  NEW  YORK  SOCIETY. 

doctor’s  servants  were  legion,  and  they  were  managed  like  clock- 
work. 

Yet  this  apparently  faultless  man,  who  had  been  dined  and 
wined  and  feted  by  the  “ nabobs”  of  fashionable  and  cultured  so- 
ciety, was  as  great  a rascal  as  lived  in  New  York.  He  continued 
his  almost  princely  life  for  some  time,  and  then  fell — fell  like  Luci- 
fer, never  to  rise  again. 

The  Doctor  had  had  some  alterations  and  repairs  made  to  his 
house,  and  in  payment  had  given  forged  checks  on  the  Gallatin 
National  Bank.  Among  those  who  thus  suffered  was  E.  M. 
Knox,  who  lost  $3000.  Mr.  Knox  had  the  wealthy  Mexican  ar- 
rested, and  the  prisoner  was  held  to  await  the  action  of  the  grand 
jury.  This  was  a blow  from  which  Nephegyi  had  not  quite  audac- 
ity enough  to  recover.  He  was  bailed,  as  he  had  been  many 
times  before,  though  the  New  York  club  men  with  whom  he 
associated  had  never  suspected  it,  by  a man  named  H.  P.  Norton, 
who  was  believed  to  be  his  confederate  in  nefarious  schemes.  At 
the  trial  the  forger  made  a vigorous  defence.  His  counsel  sub- 
mitted an  inventory  of  his  client’s  possessions,  showing  that  there 
could  have  been  no  fraudulent  motive  on  the  part  of  the  prisoner. 
The  prosecution,  on  the  other  hand,  hurled  a bombshell  into  New 
York  society  by  unfolding  Dr.  Gabor  Nephegyi’s  past  record.  It 
proved  him  to  have  been  a professional  confidence  man.  In  1866, 
under  another  name,  he  had  been  arrested  for  making  counterfeit 
money  on  Staten  Island.  A year  or  so  later  he  had  swindled  a 
Boston  business  house  out  of  $10,000.  In  1869  Asa  Packer  and 
others,  of  Bethlehem,  Pennsylvania,  lost  thousands  of  dollars  by 
this  arch-rascal.  “ He  is  one  of  the  most  consummate  villains, 
rogues  and  swindlers  that  ever  disgraced  this  part  of  the  country,” 
wrote  John  G.  Miller  from  Asa  Packer’s  home.  He  had  been-- 
confined  for  some  time  in  the  jail  at  Eaton,  where  he  had  shown 
his  cleverness  and  carelessness  by  writing  over  the  cell  door:  “ Pri- 
vate entrance  to  the  hotel  of  free  lodging.  No  exit  except  on  bail. 
Regulations  : First.  Guests  are  not  permitted  to  leave  without  the 
express  permission  of  the  landlord.  Second.  For  the  better  secur- 
ity of  guests,  iron  and  locks  are  constantly  in  the  windows  and 
doors.” 

The  last  and  most  astounding  incident  in  this  man’s  career,  as 
spread  before  the  public  by  the  district  attorney,  was  his  swindling 
the  City  of  Mexico  out  of  $600,000  by  fraudulent  gas  contracts. 


DR.  NEPHEGYI. 


337 


It  was  on  the  proceeds  of  these  deeds  of  villany  that  the  cultured, 
aristocratic,  wealthy  and  fashionable  resident  of  Fifty-third  Street 
supported  his  gorgeous  turn-outs,  gave  his  magnificent  dinners, 
and  aroused  the  admiration  and  envy  of  his  less  talented  and 
poorer  acquaintances.  Yet  in  the  end  his  money  did  not  save  him, 
and  the  law  showed  the  cultured  Mexican  no  more  leniency  than 
it  did  a Bowery  prize-fighter. 

The  case  of  Dr.  Nephegyi  illustrates  well  the  character  of  the 
men  with  whom,  as  forgers  and  swindlers,  the  police  of  New  York 
are  constantly  coming  in  contact.  At  the  bottom,  these  men  are 
as  unscrupulous  and  as  vicious  as  the  roughest  looking  criminal 
that  is  arraigned  in  our  police  courts.  Yet  frequently  their  associ- 
ates are  persons  of  eminent  respectability  and  refinement.  Forging 
is  often  refined  bank  robbery,  and  forgers  are  cultured  bank  rob- 
bers. It  is  necessary  for  the  successful  accomplishment  of  their 
fraudulent  schemes  that  they  should  dress  well  and  act  well.  The 
most  adroit,  or  those  whose  aim  is  to  get  large  sums  of  money, 
must  live  like  persons  who  are  accustomed  to  handle  plenty  of 
money.  Their  work  of  fraud  lies  among  the  rich  and  educated 
part  of  the  population,  and  to  avoid  arousing  suspicion  they  must 
be  careful  not  to  show  any  signs  of  vulgarity  or  of  crookedness. 
The  successful- forger  is  always  a very  smart  man,  and  this  very 
fact  frequently  aids  him,  as  it  aided  Dr.  Nephegyi,  in  getting  the 
entree  to  the  best  and  cleverest  society.  It  has  been  my  experi- 
ence as  a police  officer  that  one  of  the  hardest  criminals  to  detect 
and  convict  is  the  forger,  and  I attribute  this  in  no  small  degree  to 
his  habit  of  ingratiating  himself,  by  his  suave  manners  and  gentle- 
manly appearance,  into  the  affections  of  those  who  ought  to  be  his 
accusers.  It  is  the  most  difficult  thing  in  the  world  sometimes  to 
convince  reputable  people  that  the  stranger  who  has  gained  their 
confidence  is  the  man  who  has  defrauded  them.  So  unwilling  is 
human  nature  to  admit  that  it  has  been  imposed  upon. 

Another  of  these  accomplished  forgers,  whose  case  has  also  its 
pathetic  side,  was  William  C.  Gilman,  a broker  of  good  reputation, 
who  lived  at  No.  31  West  Thirty-sixth  Street.  One  day  in  October 
Gilman  sent  to  the  office  of  Henry  Talmadge  & Co.,  bankers, 
of  No.  39  Pine  Street,  as  collateral  security  for  money  borrowed, 
two  certificates  of  scrip  of  the  Atlantic  Mutual  Insurance  Company 
for  $10,000  each.  The  firm  sent  the  certificates  to  the  insurance 
company  for  identification  and  there  it  was  learned  that  thev 
22 


338  A SWINDLER  OF  THE  BLACKEST  TYPE. 

were  not  genuine.  It  was  found  that  certificates  for  $100  each 
had  been  issued  to  Gilman  in  1876,  and  there  was  every  evidence 
that  these  presented  by  Henry  Talmadge  & Co.  were  the  same  ones, 
but  the  amount  had  been  raised  in  each  from  $100  to  $10,000. 

The  fact  of  the  forgery  was  soon  made  known,  and  the  greatest 
surprise  and  consternation  followed.  Business  men  had  looked 
on  William  C.  Gilman  as  a model  of  honesty  and  fair  dealing. 
He  belonged  to  the  firm  William  C.  Gilman  & Co.,  which  had 
been  respected  on  the  street  for  forty  years.  He  had  entered 
the  house  when  a boy,  and  had  finally  succeeded  his  father  in 
control.  The  latter  had  died  thirteen  year$.  before  and  left  his 
son  $100,000.  Gilman’s  manner  of  living  was  such  that  his 
friends  thought  he  must  be  doing  a good  business.  He  was  a 
member  of  the  Union  League  Club,  and  very  popular  with  his 
associates.  His  social  position  was  excellent.  Above  all,  he  was 
a devoted  church  member  and  a teacher  in  a Sabbath-school. 

Yet  the  revelation  on  that  second  day  in  October  pronounced 
him  a swindler  of  the  blackest  type.  His  crime  was  not  only  the 
forging  of  two  certificates  of  $10,000  each,  but  the  swindling  of 
other  firms  and  corporations  out  of  ten  times  as  much.  As 
soon  as  the  attempted  fraud  on  Henry  Talmadge  & Co.  was 
discovered  and  made  known,  there  was  great  excitement  at  all 
the  banks  where  Gilman  was  accustomed  to  do  business.  His 
securities  which  they  held  were  at  once  overhauled  and  critically 
examined.  The  further  the  investigation  went  the  more  astound- 
ing revelations  were  made.  The  Third  National  Bank  discovered 
that  it  held  $20,000  of  forged  paper;  the  American  Exchange 
Bank,  $87,320;  a trust  company,  $74,000;  and  other  corpora- 
tions, $30,000.  Gilman  was  believed  to  have  fraudulently  secured 
altogether  about  $250,000.  The  forgeries  had  all  been  committed 
by  raising  certificates  from  comparatively  small  amounts  to  large 
ones. 

The  excitement  among  business  men  and  Gilman’s  acquaint- 
ances was  intense,  and  when  almost  simultaneously  with  the  dis- 
covery of  the  forgeries  it  was  made  known  that  Gilman  himself 
had  fled,  those  who  had  for  an  instant  cherished  any  doubts  of  the 
forger’s  guilt  were  ready  to  believe  it  now.  No  plausible  theory, 
however,  was  suggested  for  the  man’s  conduct. 

Two  weeks  later  Gilman  turned  up,  and  surrendered  himself  to 
the  police.  I confess  I have  seldom  felt  more  touched  by  the 


A SCENE  IN  ALLEN  STREET. 


339 


arrest  of  any  prisoner.  His  fall  was  so  complete,  and  the  broken- 
down  man  realized  it  so  entirely.  He  issued  a confession  to  the 
public,  in  which  he  blamed  no  one  but  himself,  and  said  that  he 
had  been  tempted  to  wrong-doing  by  business  troubles  and  his 
extravagant  habits.  It  was  a very  humiliating  recital.  In  court 
soon  afterward  he  pleaded  guilty  to  forgery  in  the  second  degree, 
and  was  sent  to  State’s  prison  for  five  years. 

On  a dark  cloudy  night  early  in  the  year  1877  three  detectives, 
with  their  overcoats  buttoned  closely  around  their  throats  to  keep 
off  the  biting  air  of  winter,  paced  slowly  up  and  down  in  front 
of  a house  in  Allen  Street,  New  York.  Now  and  then  they  cast 
anxious  glances  toward  the  house,  and  stopped  and  stared  cu- 
riously when  there  was  any  sign  of  life  about  the  dwelling.  They 
noted  the  entrance  of  one  or  two  men  into  the  house,  and  then 
were  gratified  to  see  an  expressman  drive  up  before  the  suspected 
hous£,  and,  leaving  his  horse  and  wagon,  rapidly  mount  the  steps 
and  ring  the  bell.  There  were  a few  words  exchanged  at  the 
door  with  the  person  who  responded  to  the  call,  and  then  the  ex- 
pressman returned  to  his  wagon.  A moment  later  three  men 
emerged  from  the  doorway,  carrying  a large  bundle  which 
they  placed  carefully  in  the  wagon.  At  that  instant  three  re- 
volvers were  pointed  at  their  heads,  and  the  three  detectives  de- 
manded the  men’s  surrender. 

So  quick  was  the  action  of  the  detectives  and  so  surprised  were 
their  prisoners  that  the  latter  offered  no  resistance.  The  driver 
started  to  run,  but  was  told  to  stand  still.  Then  the  six  men, 
followed  by  the  terrified  expressman,  filed  silently  toward  a police 
station,  and  thence  to  headquarters.  There  I saw  the  three  prison- 
ers, and  recognized  in  one  of  them,  to  my  great  surprise,  “ Little 
Joe”  Elliot,  an  aristocratic  criminal,  a man  who  has  committed 
crime  in  nearly  every  State  of  the  Union,  and  in  half  the  countries 
of  the  Old  World,  and  who  is  familiar  with  at  least  a score  of 
prisons.  The  other  two  prisoners  were  Charles  Becker  and 
“ Old  Man  ” Hearing,  as  he  was  familiarly  called,  two  well-known 
forgers. 

The  crime  for  which  these  men  were  arrested  on  this  dark 
night  was  that  of  forging  a check  for  $64,000,  purporting  to  be 
drawn  by  the  New  York  Life  Insurance  Company  upon  the  Union 
Trust  Company.  The  forgery  was  wrought  in  this  manner : 
On  January  3,  “Little  Joe”  called  on  George  L.  Maxwell,  a 


340 


“ LITTLE  JOE  ” ELLIOT. 


Wall  Street  broker,  introduced  himself  as  an  agent  of  the  New 
York  Life  Insurance  Company,  and  asked  the  broker  if  he  would 
purchase  for  the  company  $50,000  in  gold,  tendering  him  at  the 
same  time  a certified  check  for  $64,000.  There  was  nothing 
in  Elliot’s  manner  or  appearance  to  arouse  suspicions.  He  was 
dressed  fashionably,  had  pleasant  manners,  was  good  looking  and 
had  an  agreeable  way  of  talking.  The  broker  felt  flattered  at  be- 
ing asked  to  do  commission  business  for  the  New  York  Life  In- 
surance Company,  and  readily  agreed  to  do  the  work  which  Elliot 
requested.  Two  days  later  the  gold  had  been  bought  and  put  in 
“ Little  Joe’s  ” hands,  and  the  certified  check  was  deposited  in 
the  Mechanics’  Bank  and  duly  honored. 

The  fraud  was  not  discovered  until  January  16,  when  the  ac- 
count of  the  insurance  company  with  the  Union  Trust  Company 
was  audited.  At  first  sight  it  was  hard  to  believe  even  then  that 
a forgery  had  occurred.  The  president  was  astounded  that  hif  sig- 
nature could  have  been  copied  so  exactly.  But  that  fraud  had 
occurred  was  beyond  dispute,  and  the  matter  was  put  in  the  hands 
of  our  detective  force.  The  officers  of  the  company  were  sus- 
picious of  the  broker,  Mr.  Maxwell,  and  at  their  instigation  he 
was  arrested,  but  when  the  matter  had  been  thoroughly  ex- 
ploited, was  discharged. 

The  first  effort  of  the  detectives  was  to  find  the  note  from  which 
the  signatures  on  the  forged  check  had  been  made.  This,  strange 
to  say,  was  found  among  the  papers  of  the  company,  and  subse- 
quent investigation  proved  conclusively  that  it  had  been  taken 
from  the  company’s  papers  and  put  back  among  them  again  by 
Charles  W.  Pontez,  a clerk.  To  the  detectives,  Pontez  had  been 
known  before  as  an  associate  of  Joseph  W.  Chapman,  a well-known 
forger.  Pontez  was  watched  constantly.  These  curious  creatures 
of  the  day  and  night  whom  we  call  “ shadows,”  followed  him  when 
he  left  the  office  at  night,  saw  him  go  to  his  home,  went  to  the 
theatre  behind  him,  and  kept  their  eyes  on  him  until  he  was  safely 
housed  for  the  night.  One  night  he  was  seen  at  the  theatre  with 
“ Little  Joe  ” Elliot,  but  after  that  they  were  not  observed  together. 
Again,  on  a night  when  the  cold  winds  were  sweeping  across  the 
North  River  and  causing  the  passengers  who  were  hastening  to 
the  Cortlandt  Street  ferries  to  shiver,  one  of  these  omnipresent 
shadows  saw  Joseph  Elliot  greet  warmly  by  a hand-shake  the  no- 
torious forger,  Charles  Becker. 


KATE  CASTLETON. 


341 


After  this  the  trio  were  seen  to  go  frequently  to  the  house  in 
Allen  Street,  and  it  was  determined  that  this  was  their  headquar- 
ters. Accordingly  it  was  watched,  and  with  the  result  mentioned. 
After  the  arrest  of  the  three  forgers  the  house  was  searched,  and 
metallic  dies,  checks,  lithographic  stones,  prints  of  bank-notes,  etc., 
were  found,  as  well  as  proof  sheets  of  the  forged  check  of  the  New 
York  Life  Insurance  Company.  Pontez  was  arrested  on  the  next 
morning.  The  exposure  of  the  affair  showed  that  he  had  stolen 
the  check  and  handed  it  over  to  Elliot.  Becker  engraved  the 
check  and  “ Old  Man  ” Hearing  printed  it. 

The  trial  of  the  forgers  came  on,  and  created  a great  deal  of  in- 
terest. But  “ Little  Joe  ” had  his  mind  on  something  else  than 
the  trial.  He  was  thinking  of  escape,  and  one  day  while  the  offi- 
cer who  took  him  to  and  from  court  had  his  eyes  turned  away, 
Elliot  took  to  his  heels  and  fled.  He  was  afterward  re-captured, 
and  with  two  of  his  associates  in  crime  paid  the  penalty  for  his 
misdeeds.  Pontez  died  before  his  sentence  was  pronounced. 

“ Little  Joe  ” began  stealing  when  a boy.  As  a youth  he  was 
quite  a dashing  young  fellow,  had  lots  of  money,  and  kept  com- 
pany with  many  of  the  most  aristocratic  young  “ bloods  ” about 
town.  He  married  Kate  Castleton,  the  actress,  having  met  her 
when  she  was  playing  with  the  San  Francisco  Minstrels  in  this 
city.  Their  wedding  was  in  the  Little  Church  Around  the  Corner 
after  a courtship  of  three  days.  She  retired  from  the  stage  at  his 
request,  but  afterward,  when  their  domestic  happiness  was  clouded 
by  discord,  returned  to  her  old  profession.  When  her  husband 
was  serving  his  term  in  prison  for  forgery,  no  one  was  more  con- 
stant in  devotion  than  his  wife,  and  she  tried  in  vain  to  secure  a 
pardon  for  him  from  the  governor.  She  afterward  secured  a di- 
vorce from  him  and  married  Harry  Phillips,  the  manager  of  the 
“ Crazy  Patch  ” company.  Elliot  is  suspected  of  having  been  im- 
plicated in  the  murder  of  Mary  Chapman,  in  London,  many,  years 
ago.  She  was  the  wife  of  Joseph  B.  Chapman,  the  notorious 
American  forger,  whom  Elliot  met  in  Constantinople,  and  in  whose 
company  he  committed  several  crimes. 

Charles  I.  Brockway,  one  of  whose  operations  is  referred  to 
in  another  chapter,  was  a forger  whose  name  will  always  be  a famil- 
iar one  in  the  traditions  of  the  police  department  of  New  York. 
He  was  the  leader  of  a bold  gang  which  included  such  men  as 
William  Ogle,  Andrew  Gilligan,  James  Williams,  popularly  known 


WM.  E.  BROCKWAY. 

(From  a Photograph  in  the  Rogues’  Gallery.) 


342 


BROCKWAY  THE  FORGER. 


343 


as  “ Big  Kentuck,”  George  Lockwood,  alias  “ Cully,”  and 
“ Tommy  ” Moore.  The  amount  of  his  forgeries  in  this  city  alone 
amounted  to  $300,000,  and  there  is  scarcely  an  important  city  in 
the  Union  that  has  not  seen  some  of  his  handiwork.  Some  of  his 
victims  in  New  York  were  the  Bank  of  the  Republic,  the  Chemical 
Bank,  the  Bank  of  the  State  of  New  York,  the  Phcenix  Bank,  the 
Second  National  Bank  and  the  firm  of  Fiske  & Hatch.  Brock- 
way himself  frequently  escaped  detection  and  conviction,  because 
he  was  clever  enough  to  put  most  of  the  work  into  the  hands  of  a 
man  of  pronounced  bad  character,  and  because  he  seldom  had 
communications  with  the  members  of  his  gang,  save  through  this 
accomplice.  After  successfully  forging  a check  on  the  Bank  of  the 
Republic,  the  gang  got  into  a dispute  over  the  spoils,  during  which 
“ Tommy  ” Moore  objected  to  Brockway’s  creed,  and  fired  a pistol 
at  him.  Ogle  sprang  to  his  chief’s  defence  and  fired  back  at 
Moore,  wounding  him.  Afterwards  Ogle,  Gilligan  and  Williams 
were  arrested  for  committing  a forgery  on  the  Phcenix  Bank. 
Williams  gave  the  conspiracy  away,  and  the  arrest  of  the  other 
members  of  the  gang  followed.  Brockway  was  sentenced  to  prison 
for  ten  years,  but  was  afterward  pardoned  by  President  Johnson. 
In  1874  Detective  King,  of  the  Central  Office,  arrested  him  again 
and  he  was  taken  to  Massachusetts,  where  he  served  three  years. 
He  turned  up  later  in  Chicago,  and  again  was  found  plying  his 
trade  in  New  York.  Captain  Kealy,  the  chief  of  detectives,  got 
evidence  that  he  was  implicated  in  other  forgeries,  and  arrested 
him  in  a Bleecker  Street  saloon. 

Brockway  was  a handsome  man,  with  black  hair  and  eyes,  tall 
and  well  formed.  He  is  now  not  more  than  forty-five  years  old. 
He  was  born  in  New  York  and  has  lived  here  always,  save  for 
such  absences  as  his  business  would  necessitate.  Soon  after  the 
war  he  ran  a faro  •game  in  this  city,  and  dealt  largely  in  counter- 
feit money. 

No  forgery  ever  occurred  more  famous  than  the  Morey  letter, 
which  was  published  in  fac-simile  in  Truth  during  the  presidential 
campaign  of  1880.  No  other  forgery  probably  had  such  far 
reaching  consequences.  Others  have  wrecked  commercial  com- 
panies and  wiped  out  the  fortunes  of  private  individuals,  but  this 
Morey  forgery  nearly  changed  the  result  of  a presidential  election. 

Everybody  is  familiar  with  the  story.  The  letter  purported  to 
have  been  written  by  James  A.  Garfield,  the  Republican  candidate, 


344  THE  MOREY  LETTER. 

to  a Mr.  Morey,  a manufacturer  in  Massachusetts,  and  dealt  with 
the  Chinese  question  in  such  a way  as  would  undoubtedly  lose  the 
Pacific  States  to  the  Republican  party  had  the  genuineness  of  the 
letter  not  been  doubted.  Mr.  Garfield  himself  wrote  a prompt 
denial,  but  the  denial  scarcely  reached  as  many  persons  as  the 
letter  itself,  for  a fac- simile  of  the  letter  in  electrotype  was  pub- 
lished in  every  Democratic  newspaper  in  the  land. 

The  Republican  national  committee  were  determined  that  they 
would  trace  this  infamous  imposition  to  its  source,  and  put  the 
matter  into  the  hands  of  Colonel  George  Bliss  and  John  I.  Dav- 
enport. These  gentlemen  employed  almost  the  whole  Detective 
Bureau  to  discover  the  author  of  the  forgery.  It  was  not  long 
before  he  was  supposed  to  be  found  in  the  person  of  Kenward 
Philp,  a brilliant  but  erratic  journalist,  who  was  one  of  the 
writers  for  Truth.  He  was  arrested,  charged  with  forgery  and 
libel  in  writing  and  publishing  the  letter.  The  trial  lasted  for 
some  time-,  but  Philp  was  finally  acquitted,  not,  however,  until 
several  witnesses  had  been  indicted  for  perjury.  During  the  trial 
a friend  of  Philp’s  happened  into  the  court-room  and  asked  him 
what  the  charge  was.  His  reply  was  : “ For  being  the  author  of 
‘Beautiful  Snow.’”  The  inference  is,  therefore,  that  had  Philp 
been  convicted,  this  long-vexed  question  would  have  been  decided. 
Poor  Philp ! He  died  in  Brooklyn  the  first  part  of  this  year. 

A romantic,  varied  life,  capped  by  a most  successful  tour  of 
forging  through  this  country,  is  the  picture  I have  now  to  present 
to  the  readers  of  this  autobiography.  The  life  of  William  Griffis, 
alias  the  “ Earl  of  Ashburton,”  “ Lord  Ashburton,”  George  M. 
Saville,  William  J.  Hadley  and  Henry  C.  Walters,  is  told  best  by 
tracing  his  career  from  childhood.  The  rounded  work  of  crime  is 
much  more  impressive  and  full  of  moral  than  any  incidents  of 
this  career  of  infamy. 

Griffis  was  born  at  Totnes,  a small  village  near  the  mouth  of 
the  River  Exe,  in  Devonshire,  England.  His  father  was  a 
wealthy,  enterprising  and  respected  timber  merchant.  He  de- 
termined that  his  son  should  have  education,  fortune  and  the 
choice  of  the  army  or  navy,  or  one  of  the  liberal  professions. 
The  boy  first  went  to  the  Butchers’  School,  in  London,  a very 
famous  institution  for  preparing  lads  for  a collegiate  career. 
From  there  he  went  to  Eton,  and  was  in  the  class  of  ’61-2.  Here 
his  conduct  did  not  please  his  father,  and  although  the  boy  was 


A HORN  FINANCIER. 


345 

destined  for  Cambridge  University,  it  was  decided  that  it  would 
be  best  to  start  him  in  the  banking  business  at  once.  So  it  came 
about  that  influence  obtained  for  him  a desk  in  the  Bank  of  Eng 
land — “ The  Old  Lady  of  Threadneedle  Street.”  This  was  in  the 
fall  of  1862.  He  was  a born  financier.  In  1865  he  had  learned 
all  that  could  be  learned  in  Threadneedle  Street,  and  took  a trip 
with  an  officer  of  the  bank  to  China.  He  visited  Hong  Kong  and 
Shanghai,  returning  to  England  in  1867. 

At  this  time  his  bad  characteristics  were  developed.  He 
always  possessed  an  innate  cussedness,  which  cropped  out  just  at 
the  wrong  time.  He  suddenly  left  the  bank,  abandoned  home 
and  friends,  and  came  to  New  York.  Unfortunately  for  him,  as  it 
subsequently  proved,  he  had  learnt  engraving  and  lithographing. 
When  he  landed  here  he  had  ample  means,  and  remittances  from 
home  were  assured.  His  choice  led  him  into  “ tavern  ” society. 
Naturally  bright  and  conspicuously  intelligent,  he  attracted  the 
attention  of  certain  individuals  who  frequented  the  places  he 
chose  for  his  headquarters.  He  continued  to  perfect  himself  in 
engraving  and  lithographing,  and  so  fell  across  men  who  were 
agents  for  the  most  powerful  gang  of  forgers  that  ever  infested 
this  country. 

Griffis’s  financial  knowledge  was  a mine  of  wealth  to  those  who 
gradually  drew  him  into  the  vortex  of  crime  News  of  his  doings 
had  reached  his  father,  who  remonstrated  with  him  for  his  gamb 
ling,  his  association  with  females  of  doubtful  character,  and  his 
intemperance.  Finally,  the  father  virtually  discarded  him,  but 
Griffis  did  not  trouble  himself  about  this  He  cOuld  earn  his 
living  as  an  engraver  and  lithographer,  and  his  criminal  associates 
warped  his  honest  instincts  by  degrees.  When  he  was  financially 
embarrassed  they  lent  him  sums  of  money  At  first  these  sums 
were  small ; then  the  amounts  would  be  hundreds  of  dollars. 
Finally  he  was  head  over  heels  in  debt,  and  the  only  way  to  get 
out  of  it  was  by  doing  the  bidding  of  the  men  who  had  him  in 
their  power.  To  “handle”  him  became  easy  in  1878,  because  of 
a little  adventure  with  a girl  whom  he  had  betrayed.  From  1869 
till  1875  he  had  done  all  sorts  of  little  “jobs”  for  the  clique  of 
forgers.  He  had  given  them  valuable  information  in  regard  to 
financial  business  in  Europe,  had  done  some  engraving  on  bonds, 
commercial  paper  and  bank-notes,  and  had  shared  in  the  profits. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  between  the  years  named  the  clique  made 


34-6 


didn’t  pay  expenses. 


at  least  $300,000  out  of  his  intimate  knowledge  of  the  banking 
business,  and  his  skill  with  the  graver. 

But  the  grand  coup  had  not  yet  been  proposed  to  him. 

In  1876  he  was  at  Syracuse,  N.  Y.,  with  a few  hundred  dollars 
in  his  pocket,  when  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  a German  girl 
who  called  herself  Lola  Walters.  She  was  fairly  respectable,  and 
averred  that  Griffis  betrayed  her  under  a promise  of  marriage. 
In  February  of  the  following  year  they  lived  at  No.  126  West 
Twenty-ninth  Street,  and  were  very  hard  up  for  money.  In  the 
same  house  was  an  actress — Lizzie  Kelsey — who  was  fond  of 
ostentatiously  displaying  her  wardrobe  and  jewellery.  The  girl 
Lola  is  believed  to  have  prompted  Walters,  as  he  now  called 
himself,  to  the  commission  of  a burglary ; and  in  it  were  asso- 
ciated an  ex-policeman  and  a professional  criminal.  The  burglary 
was  not  as  successful  as  the  perpetrators  wished.  It  netted  prop- 
erty worth  less  than  a thousand  dollars,  which,  sifted  through  the 
hands  of  a receiver,  realized  but  a couple  of  hundred  dollars — 
hardly  enough,  as  the  thieves  afterwards  confessed,  to  “ pay  ex- 
penses.” All  of  those  who  participated  were  arrested.  One  was 
not  tried,  another  pleaded  guilty  to  petty  larceny  and  went  to  the 
penitentiary  for  a short  term.  Lola  and  Griffis,  who  were  each 
under  an  alias , invoked  “influence”  at  the  district  attorney’s 
office  which  secured  a delay,  resulting  in  the  disappearance  of 
witnesses.  Finally  they  were  discharged.  Griffis  came  out  of 
prison  as  poor  as  the  proverbial  church  mouse,  and  fell  an  easy 
prey  to  the  men  who  knew  his  worth  as  an  engraver  and  financier. 

It  had  long  been  plotted  to  flood  the  country  with  circular  notes 
and  letters  of  credit  of  the  Union  Bank  of  London  (England). 
The  scheme  had  so  far  progressed  that  even  the  paper  on  which 
the  notes  and  letters  of  credit  were  to  be  printed  had  been  ordered 
and  manufactured  in  Europe,  together  with  the  bulk  of  the  engrav- 
ings. Griffis  was  given  general  charge  of  the  whole  business,  and 
directed  what  should  be  done  in  England  to  bring  the  matter  to  a 
head,  and  to  secure  the  circulation  of  the  paper  without  a hitch. 
When  the  whole  scheme  was  completed  and  everything  was  ready, 
the  forgers  had  prepared  the  following  “ paper,”  all  directed 
against  the  Union  Bank  of  London  : Circular  letters  of  ^54,000 
($270,000)  with  the  privilege  of  unlimited  credit  on  drafts,  and 
with  circular  notes  running  from  £\o  ($50)  to  ^500  ($2500)  ; cir- 
cular note  for  ^43,000  ($215,000),  circular  letters  for  ^20,000 


LOADED  DOWN  WITH  MONEY. 


347 


($100,000)  and  £6000  ($30,000),  and  two  of  ^1000  each  ($10,000), 
the  last  four  having  circular  notes  of  ^10  ($50)  each.  The  aggre- 
gate was  $625,000  ! 

No  one  not  thoroughly  conversant  with  the  intricacies  of  bank- 
ing, letters  of  credit,  circular  notes,  engraving,  printing  and  gen- 
eral business  matters,  can  have  the  slightest  idea  of  the  pains  and 
nicety  required  to  mature  such  a scheme  of  plunder.  When 
Griffis  started  to  cash  these  spurious  drafts  there  was  not  a flaw  in 
the  whole  arrangement.  He  was  not  alone  in  the  business  of 
reaping  the  harvest  of  his  and  his  associates’  infamy.  His  share 
was  to  be  the  letter  of  credit  for  $270,000  ; his  field  of  operations, 
Denver,  Ogden,  Salt  Lake  City,  Virginia  City  and  San  Francisco. 

In  October,  1878,  he  arrived  in  Boston,  Massachusetts,  literally 
loaded  down  with  money.  There  he  met  his  fate,  in  the  person 
of  Georgetta  Saville,  a corrupt  but  beautiful  auburn-haired  woman, 
who  had  been  launched -on  a career  of  infamy  by  a New  York 
stock-broker.  This  gentleman’s  means  had  begun  to  fail  when 
Griffis  met  Georgetta,  and  she  was  glad  to  find  a new  protector 
with  plenty  of  the  needful.  Taking  her  name,  Griffis  came  to 
New  York  and  began  to  victimize  our  tradesmen,  one  of  whom 
was  Mr.  Thomas  Kirkpatrick,  the  Broadway  jeweller.  From  him, 
for  thirty-two  of  the  forged  ^10  notes,  he  obtained  $1600  worth 
of  jewellery.  Griffis  fared  equally  well  with  a dozen  other  trades- 
men, and  then  cut  a swathe  through  Chicago,  Toledo,  Cleveland 
and  Kansas  City.  The  woman  accompanied  him,  and  became  as 
expert  in  disposing  of  the  forged  paper  as  the  man. 

Unfortunately  for  them,  an  indiscretion  on  the  part  of  one  of 
the  forgers — Walker  F.  Floswell,  alias  Esmond — at  the  office  of 
Jesup,  Paton  & Co.,  the  William  Street  bankers,  got  the  gang 
into  trouble.  The  blunder  led  to  the  discovery  of  the  forg- 
eries, and  in  forty-eight  hours  hundreds  of  telegrams  of  warn- 
ing and  inquiry  had  put  every  banking  institution  in  the  United 
States  and  Canada  on  their  guard.  Wall  Street  was  appalled  at 
the  responses  which  came  in  from  east,  west,  north  and  south.  It 
was  at  first  imagined  that  the  scheme  had  netted  $2,000,000,  but 
when  the  accounts  were  balanced  it  was  ascertained  that  the  epi- 
demic was  not  one-eighth  as  bad  as  was  supposed. 

One  of  these  telegrams  of  inquiry  and  warning  reached  a corrupt 
and  black-mailing  clique  in  the  Rocky  Mountains.  It  was  called 
the  Rocky  Mountain  Detective  Agency.  Now,  it  so  happened  that 


348  ROCKY  MOUNTAIN  “ DETECTIVES.” 

Griffis  and  Georgetta  were  “ papering  ” Denver  at  the  time.  The 
agency  swooped  down  on  them,  kept  them  under  surveillance,  and 
sent  me  the  following  telegram  : 

“We  have  got  those  Union  Bank  forgers — man  and  woman. 
What  reward  is  there  out  for  theta  ? ” 

I replied  : 

“ Will  give  $100  reward.  If  any  more  you  can  have  it.” 

Whereupon  the  boss  rascal  of  the  agency,  D.  J.  Cook,  sent  me 
this  reply: 

“ Sum  named  will  not  do  at  all.  Would  not  pay  railroad  fare.” 

That  closed  the  negotiations  with  me ; but  the  “ agency  ” pro- 
ceeded to  reward  themselves  for  any  little  trouble  they  might  have 
had  in  following  Griffis  and  his  auburn-haired  companion.  They 
fleeced  them  out  of  $11,000,  but  were  kind  enough  to  pay  the 
forgers’  railroad  fare  to  the  place  they  desired  to  go  to.  The 
woman  quitted  her  companion  to  go  East.  Griffis  chose  to  go 
to  Cheyenne,  and  as  he  got  on  the  train  the  Rocky  Mountain 
Agency  kindly  handed  him  $300,000  of  the  forged  Union  Bank 
of  London  paper,  hoping,  no  doubt,  that  he  would  be  successful 
enough  to  be  able  to  repay  future  attention. 

The  Rocky  Mountain  men,  however,  were  too  greedy.  They 
stuck  to  Griffis  like  his  undershirt,  and  spoiled  his  “ business  ” at 
Cheyenne  and  Ogden,  until  he  was  compelled  to  give  them  a hint 
“ not  to  come  so  darned  close  to  him.”  They  saw  the  point,  allowed 
him  a little  more  latitude,  and  despite  the  warnings  flashed  from 
New  York,  he  was  able  to  do  quite  a respectable  little  business  in 
the  line  of  forged  circular  notes.  But  the  Rocky  Mountain  boys 
knew  whenever  and  wherever  he  made  a “ haul,”  and  at  the  very 
first  opportunity  “ shook  him  up  ” and  divided  the  profits.  In  this 
way,  from  the  adventure  at  Denver  to  the  time  he  arrived  in  San 
Francisco,  they  fleeced  him  out  of  $21,000. 

At  San  Francisco  he  stood  at  bay  and  defied  the  detectives. 
The  ’Frisco  police  had  got  wind  of  the  affair,  and  interposed  just 
when  Griffis  had  planned  to  lay  a little  money  aside  for  himself. 
He  had  disposed  of  $125,000  more  of  the  notes  in  the  purchase  of 
mining  stocks.  But  he  fell  between  the  upper  and  the  nether 
millstone — the  Rocky  Mountain  agency  and  Chief  Lees  of  the  San 
Francisco  detectives — and  was  prosecuted  by  the  Bank  of  Nevada. 
It  was  an  easy  matter  to  convict  him.  His  sentence  was  eight 
years’  imprisonment.  He  was  then  in  failing  health,  and  in  some 


THE  END  OF  ALL. 


349 


remarkable  and  mysterious  manner  excited  so  much  sympathy 
that  two  other  indictments,  which  would  have  consigned  him  to 
prison  for  the  rest  of  his  natural  life,  were  not  pushed.  Griffis 
continued  in  prison  until  November,  1882,  when  influence  secured 
his  release,  on  the  representation  that  he  was  dying.  He  had  rel- 
atives in  San  Francisco,  one  of  them  a young  lady  of  undoubted 
respectability.  She  constantly  visited  him,  and  upon  his  release 
from  prison  they  were  married.  The  ceremony  was  performed 
while  he  lay  on  a bed  of  sickness,  from  which  he  never  expected  to 
move  unless  to  be  placed  in  his  coffin.  He  was  carried,  however, 
by  short  and  easy  stages,  to  Southern  California,  and  remained  in 
bed  for  nine  weeks.  Then  he  came  East,  intending  to  go  home  to 
Devonshire  to  die.  His  lungs  were  affected,  and  he  suffered  from 
haemorrhages  several  times  a day.  He  arrived  at  New  York,  incog- 
nito, but  news  of  his  movements  had  been  telegraphed  to  Mr.  Kirk- 
patrick, who  resolved  to  ascertain  if  the  reported  illness  of  the 
forger  was  true.  He  communicated  with  me,  and  through  the  offi- 
cers of  the  Twenty-ninth  Precinct  I tracked  him  to  East  Fiftieth 
Street,  where  he  was  arrested.  When  in  custody  he  made  a full 
and  unreserved  confession. 


c 


CHAPTER  XXV. 


SWINDLERS  AND  BLACK-MAILERS. — “ HE  CAN’T  BEAT  ME  PLAYIN’ 

POKER.” A SWINDLER  SWINDLED. DIVORCES  PROCURED  BY 

WHOLESALE. SWINDLING  A GREAT  DRY  GOODS  HOUSE. A 

BANK  BILL. — HOW  TO  PUNISH  A BLACK-MAILER. — “ I CAME  IN 
HERE  TO  KILL  YOU.” 

On  one  night  in  August,  1883,  the  brilliant  electric  light  which 
hangs  outside  the  entrance  to  the  Madison  Square  Theatre  shone 
down  on  the  faces  of  a well-dressed,  hurrying  crowd  of  men  and 
women  who  were  anxious  to  reach  their  seats  inside  the  building 
before  the  curtain  should  rise.  Standing  just  inside  the  main  en- 
trance, with  rather  a dubious  look  on  his  face,  was  a stout,  healthy- 
looking  man,  with  rough  clothes  and  bronzed  face,  whom  a veteran 
New  Yorker  would  at  once  pronounce  a countryman.  Now  and 
then  this  stranger  to  the  city  walked  over  to  the  box-office  and  in 
hearty  tones  cried  out,  “Any  seats  yet?”  The  play  which  was 
on  then  was  a popular  one,  and  on  this  particular  evening  all  the 
seats  had  been  taken.  The  stranger  had  waited  until  coming  to 
the  play-house  before  securing  a chair,  and  as  a consequence 
found  himself  unable  to  get  one.  Now  he  was  waiting  in  hope 
that  some  of  the  stalls  which  had  been  taken  would  be  returned. 

The  ticket  agent  looked  up  with  a smile  at  the  stout  man’s 
question,  which  was  then  asked  for  nearly  the  dozenth  time,  and 
responded  blandly,  “.No,  there  are  none  in  yet.” 

Just  then  from  one  side  of  the  lobby  where  he  had  been  ex- 
amining the  pictures  of  actresses  in  a glass  case,  a young  man, 
dressed  in  a stylish  suit,  walked  over  to  where  the  stranger  stood, 
and  in  polite  and  modest  tones  asked  : 

“ Pardon  me,  but  were  you  trying  to  get  a seat  ? ” 

“ Wall,  I should  say  I war,”  the  stranger  replied. 

“ Then  won’t  you  take  one  of  mine?  I bought  two  expecting 
to  meet  a friend  here,  but  he  hasn’t  turned  up  and  I don’t  be 
lieve  he  will  come.” 


A RANCHMAN  FROM  KANSAS. 


351 


The  man  with  the  bronzed  face  was  overcome  with  gratitude 
and  gladly  consented  to  sit  beside  the  handsomely  dressed  young 
man.  They  went  into  the  theatre,  took  their  seats  and  enjoyed 
the  play.  The  young  man  was  exceedingly  agreeable,  and  his 
elder  companion  talked  with  him  frankly  and  without  restraint. 
He  told  him  that  he  was  a ranchman  from  Abilene,  Kansas,  and 
that  he  was  in  New  York  for  the  second  time  in  his  entire  life. 
This  led  to  conversation  about  the  sights  of  the  great  metropolis, 
and  inasmuch  as  his  polite  young  friend  professed  to  be  thor- 
oughly familiar  with  the  ins  and  outs,  it  was  only  natural  that  the 
Westerner  should  comply  with  the  young  man’s  suggestion  that 
they  should  go  together  and  visit  some  of  the  notorious  places. 

“ I’m  stayin’  at  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel,”  said  the  ranchman,  as 
they  parted  for  the  night.  “ Come  round  an’  take  dinner  with 
me  to-morrow  night.”  The  young  man  accepted  the  invitation. 

On  the  next  night,  after  the  two  men  had  more  than  satisfied 
their  stomachs’  demands,  and  had  imbibed  liberally  of  claret  and 
champagne,  they  walked  out  of  the  dining-room  into  the  corridor 
and  stopped  at  the  desk,  while  the  Westerner  took  a well-padded 
pocket-book  out  of  his  trousers,  and  counting  out  five  hundred 
dollars  in  bills  of  large  denomination  deposited  them  with  the 
clerk.  The  young  man  appeared  to  take  no  interest  in  this  pro- 
ceeding, yet  all  the  time  his  eyes  were  on  the  well-filled  wallet 
and  the  green  bank-notes. 

The  ranchman  and  his  young  companion  left  the  hotel.  Late 
that  night  the  older  man  returned. 

After  breakfast  the  next  morning,  Benjamin  Ashley,  for  such 
was  the  name  which  the  man  from  the  West  had  written  on  the 
hotel  register,  was  lounging  in  the  corridors,  when  he  was  ad- 
dressed by  the  clerk,  who,  after  apologizing  for  his  boldness,  asked 
the  hotel  guest  if  he  was  aware  of  the  character  of  the  young  man 
who  was  with  him  on  the  previous  night  Mr.  Ashley  replied  that 
he  had  met  him  since  he  had  come  to  New  York  and  was  very 
much  pleased  with  him. 

“ Let  me  give  you  a pointer,”  said  the  clerk.  “ That  young 
man  is  1 Hungry  Joe,’  the  biggest  swindler  in  this  town  ! ” 

Benjamin  Ashley  was  startled.  He  said  nothing  for  a moment, 
then  became  thoughtful,  and  finally  replied  : “ That’s  the  kind 

o’  huckleberry  he  is,  is  it  ? Wall,  all  right.  Let  him  blaze  away. 
He  can’t  beat  me  playin’  poker.” 


HUNGRY  JOE’S  POKER  GAME. 


li  HUNGRY  JOE.” 


353 


The  clerk  smiled  sarcastically,  but  considering  that  he  had 
done  his  duty  dropped  the  subject  at  once,  and  without  further 
remark  handed  over  from  the  safe  the  $1000  which  Mr.  Ashley 
asked  for. 

After  this,  “ Hungry  Joe  ” and  his  innocent  friend  were  often 
together.  They  drove  through  the  Park  and  up  the  Boulevard  ; 
they  went  to  the  theatre  and  they  played — poker.  Mr.  Ashley 
grew  more  confidential,  and  told  his  companion  that  he  owned  a 
valuable  ranch  in  Kansas,  and  that  he  was  about  to  sail  for 
England  to  have  his  eyes  treated.  More  poker  games  were 
played,  and  more  bank  bills  were  drawn  from  those  on  deposit 
in  the  hotel  safe.  A week  after  the  clerk  had  warned  him  of 
Hungry  Joe,  Mr.  Ashley  had  lost  nearly  $4000.  Yet  he  was 
unwilling  to  give  up. 

One  afternoon  he  was  in  his  room  with  “ Hungry  Joe,”  and 
two  friends  which  the  latter  had  introduced.  They  had  played 
poker  and  the  Westerner  had  met  with  his  usual  poor  luck.  He 
grew  despondent. 

“ I’ll  tell  you  what  I’)l  do,  boys,”  he  said  at  length,  “ I didn’t 
think  you  could  beat  me  at  poker,  but,  by  golly,  you’ve  done  it,  an’ 
done  it  bad  too.  Now  I’ve  got  to  get  to  Europe  somehow  or 
tother,  an’  I don’t  see  how  I’m  to  do  it  on  what  I’ve  got  left  of 
my  pile.  So,  as  I said,  I’ll  tell  you  what  I’ll  do.  I’ll  give  you 
a mortgage  on  my  ranch  for  $4000.” 

The  whilom  friends  expressed  their  sympathy  for  Mr.  Ashley 
and  offered  to  think  about  it.  They  soon  left  the  hotel  and  went 
into  a saloon.  Here  they  concocted  a scheme.  They  would 
telegraph  to  Abilene,  to  the  postmaster,  to  find  out  if  Ashley’s 
representations  were  correct,  and  if  they  were  they  would  buy  the 
ranch  outright  at  a reduced  figure.  The  telegram  read  something 
like  this : 


“ Postmaster,  Abilene,  Kansas : Telegraph  full  particulars  about  Benjamin 
Ashley  at  my  expense. 


“R.  Dickson.” 


The  answer  came  and  was  entirely  satisfactory.  Hungry  Joe 
and  his  companions  managed  to  scrape  together  $14,000,  and 
with  this  sum  in  their  pockets  the  two  repaired  again  to  the  hotel, 
and  offered  Mr.  Ashley  $14,000  for  his  ranch.  The  offer  was 
promptly  accepted,  the  papers  were  drawn  up,  and  $14,000  went 
23 


354 


‘•YOU  ARE  NOT  MR.  ASHLEY.” 


into  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel  safe  to  wait  until  Mr.  Ashley  wished 
to  draw  it  out. 

Two  days  later  a Guion  line  steamship  left  its  dock  amid  the 
waving  of  handkerchiefs.  Among  the  little  knot  of  persons  who 
stood  on  the  edge  of  the  pier  to  get  the  last  glimpse  of  their 
friends  were  Hungry  Joe  and  the  two  companions  who  were  with 
him  in  Benjamin  Ashley’s  room  when  the  latter  sold  the  deed  to 
his  Western  property  for  $14,000.  The  bronze-faced  ranchman 
waved  his  slouch  hat  at  the  trio  as  the  huge  black  hull  of  the 
steamer  swung  loose  from  its  moorings.  The  trio  politely  tipped 
their  stylish  derbies  in  acknowledgment  of  the  farewell  greeting. 
A few  moments  and  the  vessel  was  out  of  sight.  The  trio  turned, 
chuckled  to  themselves,  and  hurried  away  with  the  remark,  “ Well, 
he’s  safely  out  of  the  way  ! A neat  little  pile  we’ll  make  out  of 
that  ranch  too,  eh  ? ” What  the  ranchman  said  we  may  only  sur- 
mise when  this  story’s  sequel  is  told. 

Two  weeks  from  the  time  this  steamer  sailed  there  was  regis- 
tered again  at  the  same  hotel  “ Benjamin  Ashley,  Abilene,  Kansas.” 
Hungry  Joe  heard  of  the  arrival  and  hastened  to  the  hotel  to  pay 
his  respects.  He  sent  up  his  card  and  was  soon  ushered  into  the 
presence  of  a total  stranger. 

“ You  are  not  Mr.  Ashley  ? ” he  inquired.  “ There  must  be  some 
mistake.  I was  looking  for  Mr.  Benjamin  Ashley,  of  Abilene, 
Kansas.” 

“ I am  the  man,  sir,”  responded  the  gentleman. 

“Why,  that  is  strange.  Is  it  possible  there  are  two  men  of  the 
same  name  in  your  town  ? It  was  only  a few  days  ago  that  I 
bought  a ranch  of  a Mr.  Benjamin  Ashley,  of  Abilene.” 

“ You  did,  eh  ? Well,  then,  I guess  you  were  swindled,  my 
friend,”  answered  , the  traveller,  dryly.  “There  is  but  one  Ben- 
jamin Ashley  in  Abilene  and  that  is  myself,  and  I haven’t  any  rec- 
ollection of  selling  my  ranch  to  you  or  to  any  one  else.  I just  got 
in  yesterday  from  Europe.” 

Hungry  Joe  turned  pale.  The  vision  flashed  across  him  that 
he,  the  arch-swindler  of  New  York,  had  been  himself  swindled. 
The  thought  was  humiliating.  For  a moment  he  said  nothing. 

“ But,  by  the  way,”  continued  this  new  Mr.  Ashley,  “ what  kind 
of  a looking  man  was  this  double  of  mine  ? ” 

Hungry  Joe  described  him.  A flash  of  recognition  crossed  the 
stranger’s  face.  He  laughed  as  he  said; 


FRAUDULENT  DIVORCES.  355 

“I  see  it  all  now.  That  man  must  have  been  Harry  Barnes, 
one  of  my  cowboys  ! ” 

The  mystery  was  easily  solved  now.  The  genuine  Benjamin 
Ashley  had  gone  abroad  some  time  before  for  the  purpose  of  hav- 
ing his  eyes  treated.  The  cowboy  had  followed,  determined  to 
have  a good  time  by  using  his  employer’s  name,  and  perhaps 
money.  After  becoming  acquainted  with  Hungry  Joe  .he  lost 
nearly  all  he  had,  and  to  his  great  chagrin  a “ city  chap  ” had 
beaten  him  at  poker.  He  would  get  even  with  him  in  some  way, 
and  so  devised  the  scheme  of  selling  his  employer’s  property. 
It  worked  successfully,  and  at  the  same  time  that  the  real  Mr.  Ash- 
ley was  leaving  London  for  New  York,  the  false  Mr.  Ashley  was 
leaving  New  York  for  London,  with  $14,000  in  his  pocket. 

Hungry  Joe  went  thoughtfully  from  the  hotel.  One  who  was 
close  enough  to  him  might  have  heard  the  murmur,  “Beaten  by  a 
cowboy ! What  a d-n  fool  I am  ! ” 

For  some  time  previous  to  February,  1884,  there  appeared  in 
several  of  the  New  York  papers  a number  of  advertisements  which 
read,  “ Divorces  procured  without  publicity.”  It  was  just  such  an 
advertisement  that  would  strike  the  eye  of  the  hundreds  in  this 
metropolis  whose  domestic  lives  were  not  that  fulness  of  uninter- 
rupted bliss  of  which  poets  sing  and  young  people  dream.  How 
many  wives  remain  joined  to  husbands  whom  they  would  leave  in 
an  instant  save  for  the  publicity  caused  by  suit  for  divorce  ! It  is 
not  strange  then  that  such  an  advertisement  would  be  clutched  at 
as  if  it  were  a last  straw  to  the  dying  by  those  who  suffer  the  pangs 
of  married  infelicity. 

To  the  police,  however,  this  notice  in  the  public  prints  was  a 
thing  to  arouse  suspicion.  An  investigation  was  made,  and  a 
most  appalling  state  of  things  was  discovered.  It  was  found  that 
fraudulent  divorces  were  obtained  almost  by  wholesale  in  Brook- 
lyn. It  seems  that  a clique  of  lawyers  in  this  city,  notably  one 
Monro  Adams,  was  in  collusion  with  a clerk  of  the  King’s 
County  Supreme  Court,  who  issued  the  decrees  by  forging  the  name 
of  the  judge  and  county  clerk,  and  stamping  the  documents  with 
the  county  seal. 

This  fraudulent  business  had  been  carried  on  for  a long  while 
and  on  an  enormous  scale,  and  it  is  estimated  that  there  are  thou- 
sands of  these  bogus  divorce  certificates  throughout  the  country. 
When  Adams’s  papers  were  examined  it  was  found  that  this  system 


356 


AN  ADVENTURE  AT  TIFFANV’s. 


of  securing  divorces  had  patrons  in  nearly  every  State  in  the 
Union. 

In  1884  men  and  women  of  the  upper  circles  in  New  York  were 
startled  by  the  announcement  that  Henry  C.  Pedder,  the  proprie 
tor  of  the  Manhattan  Magazine,  had  swindled  Arnold,  Constable  & 
Co.  out  of  thousands  of  dollars.  Fifteen  years  before  he  had  en- 
tered the  firm’s  business  as  entry  clerk  at  a salary  of  $ 600  a year. 
He  worked  his  way  up  until  he  became  manager  of  the  firm’s  real 
estate.  Although  his  chances  for  making  money  honestly  were 
not  great,  he  owned  at  the  time  his  false  character  was  discovered 
a house  at  Llewellyn  Park,  Orange,  New  Jersey,  valued  at  $200,- 
000.  He  lived  in  great  style,  but  in  spite  of  his  rather  cultivated 
tastes  he  was  a thorough  rascal.  He  sunk  money  in  real  estate  in 
speculation,  in  the  Gorringe  Ship-building  Company,  and  in  his 
magazine,  which  died  soon  after  Pedder’s  dishonesty  was  made 
public. 

The  discovery  of  Pedder’s  illegal  transactions  was  made  by  in- 
vestigation into  other  cases  of  swindling  which  had  occurred  in  the 
house  of  Arnold,  Constable  & Co.  The  cases  had  been  put  into 
the  hands  of  Inspector  Byrnes,  and  his  men  had  ferreted  the 
swindlers  out.  It  was  found  that  several  persons,  including  Mrs. 
B.  F.  Burke,  of  No.  345  East  Fifteenth  Street,  her  son  Joseph, 
William  Devlin,  a porter  in  the  employ  of  the  house,  and  a man 
named  Cornelius  O’Leary,  who  had  at  one  time  been  receiving 
clerk,  had  entered  into  a conspiracy  to  systematically  rob  the 
firm.  Their  method  was  to  impose  fraudulent  checks  on  the  house 
payable  to  the  order  of  Mrs.  Burke,  from  whom  it  was  asserted 
that  bills  of  goods  had  been  purchased.  Checks  from  $100  up  to 
$1000  were  thus  paid,  and  altogether  the  firm  had  lost  about 
$50,000.  O’Leary  pleaded  guilty  and  was  sent  up  for  five  years, 
and  the  others  were  treated  accordingly. 

Years  ago  a florid-faced  Englishman  entered  Tiffany’s  old  down- 
town store  on  Broadway.  He  was  dressed  in  the  height  of  fash- 
ion, wore  a profusion  of  jewellery,  and  carried  himself  with  an  air 
of  importance.  He  asked  to  be  shown  some  diamonds,  of  which 
the  firm  had  a remarkable  display,  their  value  being  not  less  than 
a million  dollars.  The  customer  was  rather  particular  in  his 
tastes,  but  finally  selected  a varied  assortment  of  fine  stones. 
Ostentatiously  he  handed  out  in  payment  a bank  bill  of  large  de- 


“ you’re  a swindler.’*  357 

nomination,  and  at  the  same  time  presented  his  card,  which  bore 
the  name  of  Muchler.  The  bill  was  sent  to  the  desk. 

Suddenly  the  cashier  appeared  with  the  bill  in  his  hand,  and  de- 
clared it  a counterfeit ! 

The  Englishman  asserted  his  respectability,  and  his  high  “ posi- 
tion,” and  became  so  noisy  and  indignant  as  to  attract  the  attention 
of  all  those  in  the  store.  Neither  was  the  cashier  backward,  and  the 
altercation  became  warm.  The  clerks  gathered  round.  The 
cashier,  waving  the  bill  in  the  air,  cried  out : 

“You’re  a swindler  ! ” 

In  an  instant  the  bill  was  snatched  from  his  hand,  and  Muchler 
made  for  the  door.  Now  thoroughly  aroused,  the  clerks  grabbed 
him  and  took  him  into  a private  office  by  main  force. 

Word  was  sent  to  me  at  police  headquarters  that  there  was 
trouble  at  Tiffany’s  and  I immediately  sent  two  detectives.  Upon 
their  arrival,  they  searched  Muchler  thoroughly;  but  to  the  as- 
tonishment of  every  one  the  counterfeit  bill  could  not/  be  found 
upon  his  person  ; and  he  had  had  no  possible  opportunity  for  de- 
stroying or  throwing  it  away.  Here  was  a mystery.  We  had  the 
man  safely  enough,  but  without  the  counterfeit  bill  it  would  be  im- 
possible to  convict  him  of  any  offence.  The  detectives  finally 
brought  him  to  my  office  at  headquarters,  together  with  the  clerk 
and  cashier.  When  Muchler  was  conducted  into  my  presence 
the  facts  were  told  me,  and  I ordered  him  to  be  searched  again, 
thinking  that  the  bill  might  have  been  overlooked.  That  it  was 
secreted  spmewhere  about  the  Englishman’s  person  there  seemed 
no  doubt,  so  we  searched  every  square  inch  of  each  article  he 
wore,  both  inside  and  out,  as  well  as  every  portion  of  his  body 
where  a human  being  could  possibly  conceal  a bank  bill. 

But  our  efforts  were  futile  ; no  bill  could  be  found  ! My  officers 
were  in  a dilemma ; it  seemed  as  if  we  should  be  obliged  to  let 
the  man  go.  Suddenly,  one  of  the  detectives  whispered  to  rne. 

“You  are  right;  just  the  very  thing,”  I responded  to  the  whis- 
per. Calling  a messenger,  I gave  him  some  secret  instructions 
and  sent  him  out  of  the  office. 

All  the  persons  in  the  room,  including  the  prisoner,  looked 
surprised  and  puzzled  at  my  action.  In  a few  minutes  the  mes- 
senger returned.  By  my  directions,  Muchler  wras  laid  upon  his 
back  on  a table.  The  two  detectives  held  his  head  firmly  while 
I opened  his  mouth,  and  taking  from  the  messenger  a small  packet 


35» 


THE  SECRET  DISCLOSED. 


emptied  the  contents  down  his  throat  and  forced  him  to  swallow. 
He  struggled  violently ; but  it  was  too  late.  Before  the  man 
knew  my  intentions,  the  object  was  accomplished.  Presently  his 
face  twitched,  his  throat  contracted,  there  came  a spasm,  and 
at  our  feet  fell — a bank  bill  ! He  had  swallowed  the  counterfeit, 
and  I had  given  him  an  emetic. 

The  finding  of  the  bill,  I may  say,  led  to  Muchler’s  conviction. 
The  method  employed  for  its  recovery,  I know,  was  not  very  en- 
joyable, but  it  was  harmless  ; and  the  end  certainly  justified  the 
means.  While  I would  never  permit. anything  approaching  brutal- 
ity to  prisoners,  there  are  times  when,  in  order  to  obtain  the  nec- 
essary proofs,  one  has  to  employ  heroic  methods.  This  was  a case 
in  point. 

The  bill  in  question,  I believe,  is  now  on  exhibition  at  police 
headquarters. 

In  1859  a young  man  came  to  me  and  told  me  that  a rascal  was 
trying  to  black-mail  him,  on  account  of  a woman  to  whom  he  was 
paying  attentions.  The  fellow  had  followed  the  pair,  and  the 
next  day  called  upon  the  lady  and  demanded  money  from  her  as 
the  price  of  keeping  her  secret. 

“Well,”  said  my  visitor,  “she  hadn’t  any  money  to  spare;  but 
he  scared  her  with  his  threat  of  exposure  and  she  hurried  to  tell 
me.  I have  come  to  you  for  advice.  What  shall  I do  ? ” 

“ I can  arrest  him  for  attempted  black-mail  ; but  even  if  he  is 
punished,  that  may  not  be  the  end  of  it,”  I replied. 

“ Yes,  I was  thinking  of  that,”  said  the  young  man.  “That  is 
what  bothers  me.” 

I asked  him  if  he  could  thrash  the  fellow. 

“Don’t  know,”  he  answered  ; “I  haven’t  sized  him  up.  I can 
if  he  isn’t  a real  good  man,  Cap.  Anyhow,  I’ll  be  glad  to  try  it 
if  you  say  so.” 

I asked  if  he  didn’t  sometimes  stay  behind  and  lock  up  the  store 
where  he  worked. 

“ Oh,  yes,”  he  answered,  “ occasionally ; I can  do  it  any  time.” 

“Then  let  the  lady  send  him  to  you  for  money.  When  you’ve 
locked  up  the  store,  you  can  give  him  a dressing  down.” 

In  a week  the  young  man  made  his  appearance  again,  in  a glow 
of  grateful  appreciation. 

“ Thanks,  Cap  ! ” he  exclaimed,  “ it  worked  like  a charm.  He 
came.  I told  him  I’d  settle  with  him  after  the  rest  had  gone,  and 


“ KING  OF  THE  BUNCO  MEN.”  359 

when  we  were  alone  I gave  him  the  worst  licking  a man  ever  had 
in  his  life.  He  begged  me  not  to  kill  him,  for  he  thought  it  was 
his  last  hour,  and  he  swore  on  his  knees  never  to  say  a word  about 
me  or  about  any  of  my  affairs.  I’m  awfully  afraid  I have  crippled 
him  for  life,  though  I didn’t  mean  to ; but  when  he  went  over  the 
first  time  he  fell  across  the  stove  and  broke  his  arm.” 

He  had  scared  the  fellow  so  badly  that  the  rascal  told  just  who 
he  was  and  where  he  lived  and  all  about  himself.  It  was  the  last  of 
the  trouble.  I saw  the  injured  would-be  informer  walking  about 
nearly  a month  later  with  his  arm  in  a sling.  ' 

At  about  midnight  on  November  7,  1881,  half  a dozen  con- 
genial spirits  were  gathered  around  a table  in  Dick  Darling’s  sa- 
loon at  No.  1217  Broadway..  Half  drained  glasses  were  in  front 
of  them,  and  jokes  and  jesting  were  the  order  of  the  occasion. 
It  was  a jolly  good-natured  crowd,  although  in  their  number  were 
some  desperate  criminals.  The  six  men  were  Bill  Bowie,  George 
Law,  Jr.,  Harry  Rice,  Charles  Crawford,  Billy  Temple  and  Charles 
R.  Miller,  the  “ king  of  the  bunco  men.”  For  an  hour  the  men 
sat  chatting  and  drinking.  Once  a man  whom  the  drinkers  recog- 
nized as  Billy  Tracy,  a bad  fellow,  but  a coward,  opened  the  door 
of  the  bar-room  and  peeked  in  only  to  quickly  withdraw.  A few 
minutes  later  the  same  man  opened  the  door  again,  walked  up  to 
the  bar,  and  ordered  a whiskey  sour.  Suddenly  he  turned  around, 
and  addressing  the  king  of  the  bunco  men,  exclaimed  : 

“ I came  in  here  to  kill  you  ! ” 

No  sooner  had  the  words  left  his  mouth  than  a revolver  was 
pointed  at  Miller’s  head,  the  trigger  was  pulled,  and  a No.  32  cart- 
ridge sank  into  the  bunco  man’s  stomach.  Miller  doubled  up, 
reached  for  his  revolver,  and  then  fainted.  In  a few  moments  an 
ambulance  appeared  and  the  wounded  man  was  taken  to  the  New 
York  Hospital,  where  he  soon  died.  Tracy  was  caught  and 
arrested. 

In  the  sensational  death  of  Charles  P.  Miller  was  ended  the  life 
of  a notorious  swindler,  a man  whose  talents  were  so  marvellous 
that  he  earned  for  himself  among  the  fraternity  of  sharpers  that 
name  by  which  I have  called  him — “the  king  of  bunco  men.” 

In  person  he  was  slim,  fair,  polished,  agreeable  and  one  of  the 
best  conversationalists  that  ever  frequented  the  first-class  resorts 
of  the  Twenty-ninth  Precinct.  He  was  invariably  well-dressed, 
clean-shaven  and  good-looking,  liberal  to  a fault,  slow  in  making 


36° 


HIS  CAREER. 


confidential  friends,  equally  slow  in  making  enemies.  He  was  the 
son  of  a county  officer  in  Texas.  Parental  indulgence  spoiled  him. 
He  learned  to  drink  to  excess  when  he  was  fifteen  years  of  age, 
fell  into  bad  company  of  both  sexes,  was  outlawed  by  his  father 
and  took  to  railroading  in  Louisiana,  where  he  completed  his 
knowledge  of  the  art  of  gambling. 

He  began  his  career  as  a gambler  by  “ capping  ” for  one  of  the 
New  Orleans  establishments,  and  finally  started  a cheating  con- 
cern of  his  own.  While  conducting  this  he  became  proficient  as 
a “ confidence  ” and  “ bunco  man.”  When  he  had  amassed  about 
$35,000  he  came  to  New  York  and  “doubled  up  ’’with  a gambling- 
clique.  He  soon  got  ahead  of  his  tutors,  secured  another  partner 
who  knew  a little  more  than  his  first,  and  battled  in  a contest  of 
wits  with  the  “ chiefs  ” of  the  New  York  swindling  fraternity,  in- 
cluding such  men  as  Hungry  Joe  and  McDermott.  His  ability 
was  such  that  they  were  soon  willing  and  pleased  to  acknowledge 
him  as  the  “chief  operator”  in  the  United  States.  Miller  had  so 
ingratiated  himself  by  his  intelligence,  suavity  and  liberality  with 
persons  who  have  a great  deal  to  do  with  the  surveillance,  arrest 
and  conviction  of  this  very  slippery  class,  always  difficult  to  convict, 
that  he  could  “ pull  the  strings  ” of  the  law  whenever  he  chose,  and 
the  first  person  whom  a “ confidence  ” man  thought  of  when  he  got 
into  trouble  was  Miller.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  in  his 
new  position  Miller  did  very  little  “ work.”  His  principal  occupa- 
tion was  keeping  an  eye  on  the  operations  of  the  various  cliques — 
the  Ferry,  Astor  House,  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel  and  other  gangs.  He 
was  rarely  seen  down  town.  His  headquarters  were  within  a few 
feet  of  the  lamp-post  which  stands  on  the  south-west  corner  of 
Broadway  and  Twenty-eighth  Street.  It  is  within  reason  to  say 
that  he  had  a shake-hands  acquaintance  with  a thousand  men  who 
never  dreamed  that  he  was  a rascal.  He  knew  every  police  officer 
by  sight,  at  least,  every  politician,  every  man  and  nearly  every 
woman  about  town.  He  lived  like  one  of  the  “ gilded  youths  ” of 
Uppertendom,  disdaining  whiskey,  strong  drinks  and  cheap  cigars, 
and  taking  his  meals  in  none  other  than  first-class  restaurants. 

He  passed  his  time  “in  the  season,”  which  may  be  said  to  last 
from  November  to  May,  in  the  principal  bar-rooms  and  hotels.  If 
he  operated  at  all  it  was  in  the  summer  months,  and  then  he  only 
aimed  at  high  game.  He  was  as  well  known  at  Long  Branch,  Sara- 
toga, Newport,  Nantasket  Beach,  Richfield  Springs  and  other  re- 


36 


“i’ll  fix  you.” 

sorts  as  the  millionaire  habitues.  He  never  visited  one  of  these 
places  without  having  an  eye  to  business  ; that  is  to  say,  he  was 
always  accompanied  by  a clique  of  operators,  whose  movements 
he  directed.  His  personal  expenses  could  hardly  have  been  less 
than  $20  a day,  and  his  liberality  did  not  permit  him  to  amass  a 
fortune.  Had  he  been  prudent  he  would  have  died  worth  several 
hundred  thousand  dollars.  One  of  the  circumstances  that  mili- 
tated against  his  prosperity  was  his  love  for  horse-racing.  He  was 
known  to  have  lost  $20,000  in  one  day’s  racing.  He  eschewed 
faro  after  losing  $18,000  at  one  sitting  at  Saratoga. 

One  of  the  few  enemies  he  made  was  Billy  Tracy,  his  murderer. 
The  latter  was  an  Irish-American,  born  in  the  Eleventh  Ward,  who 
was  graduated  as  a petty  thief  at  the  age  of  sixteen,  and  went 
through  the  various  grades  until  he  was  considered  an  expert  bank 
forger.  But  this  was  simply  because  of  his  associates.  He  was 
always  a coward,  but  with  such  companions  as  Red  Leary,  Jimmy 
Dolan,  Whitey  Bob,  “ Old  Jake”  Tierney,  Dan  Noble  and  Jimmy 
Griffin  he  had  no  difficulty  in  attaining  reasonable  success  in  his 
vocation.  He  had  been  arrested  often  for  various  crimes  by  Cen- 
tral Office  detectives,  and  as  frequently  escaped  conviction. 

The  feud  between  Miller  and  Tracy  began  in  the  spring  of  1881, 
and  came  pretty  nearly  to  an  end  one  night  when  they  drew  pistols 
on  each  other  in  Tracy’s  own  saloon,  No.  33  West  Twenty-ninth 
Street.  As  Miller  strolled  into  the  place,  Tracy  began  to  bully 
him.  When  Miller  appeared  likely  to  retaliate,  Tracy  backed  down. 
Miller  kept  his  eye  on  him,  expecting  a cowardly  attack,  and  when 
the  latter,  in  a burst  of  courage,  said  : “ I’ll  fix  you,”  the  threatened 
man  drew7  a revolver  and  quickly  fired  three  shots,  one  of  which  hit 
Tracy.  The  bullet  only  wounded  him  slightly.  He  fell  on  the 
floor  and  called  for  the  police.  Miller  and  his  friends  crowded 
around  him,  laughing  at  him  until  they  were  tired,  and  then  left 
the  place.  There  were  no  arrests.  Miller’s  hilarity,  however, 
rankled  in  the  breast  of  Tracy  who  resolved  to  get  even,  and  did 
it  in  the  way  that  has  been  mentioned. 

Perjured  testimony  saved  the  murderer  from  the  gallows.  He 
went  scot-free,  and  is  still  keeping  the  little  saloon  where  the  first 
encounter  between  him  and  Miller  took  place. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 


A PLOT  OF  NIHILISTS. — THREATENING  LETTERS. — LITTLE  ROSA  STRAS- 

BURGER. A CAUTIOUS  RABBI. — DETECTIVE  CAMPBELL’S  WATCH. 

“ I’LL  BLOW  YOUR  BRAINS  OUT.” A BLACK-MAILER’s  DEATH. 

— LETTERS  TO  JAY  GOULD. — INTERESTED  IN  “SALVATION.” 
— WATCHING  THE  MAILING-BOXES. — THE  MYSTERY  SOLVED. 

A plot  only  second  in  interest  to  the  Charley  Ross  case,  and 
equal  to  it  in  its  tragic  conclusion,  was  brought  to  an  end  in  the 
early  part  of  1881.  It  was  concocted  by  men  who  were  proved  to 
be  Russian  Nihilists.  Mr.  Louis  Strasburger,  a wealthy  diamond 
merchant,  of  No.  15  Maiden  Lane,  whose  name  is  known  where- 
ever  there  is  a market  for  these  gems,  lived  at  No.  128  East 
Sixty-first  Street  with  his  family,  which  consisted  of  his  wife  and 
their  charming  little  daughter  Rosa.  The  first  scheme  set  on 
foot  was  to  extort  money  by  frightening  the  object  of  the  atten- 
tions of  the  clique  ; and  so,  on  the  day  before  Christmas,  1880, 
they  addressed  the  following  letter  to  Mrs.  Strasburger  and  her 
sister,  Mrs.  Adler,  who  had  married  Mi.  Strasburger’s  partner: 

“You  doubtless  know  that  ypur  husband  has  been  sentenced  to  pay  $60,000. 
We  appeal  for  the  last  time  to  you,  and  if  you  don’t  wish  to  have  a funeral  in 
the  house  at  an  early  day  you  had  better  pay  it.  If  you  desire  to  prevent 
bloodshed  take  a car  precisely  at  1.30  to  the  corner  of  Broadway  and  Barclay 
Street.  Have  the  money  ready.  Between  half-past  three  and  four  go  alone 
from  the  corner  of  Broadway  and  Barclay  Street  to  West  Broadway,  three 
times,  with  an  envelope  in  your  hand. 

“ Executive  Committee.” 

Mr.  Strasburger  ridiculed  the  communication.  His  wife  and 
her  sister  were  nervous,  however,  and  upon  second  thought  Mr. 
Strasburger  quietly  informed  Pinkerton’s  Detective  Agency  of 
what  had  happened.  Subsequently,  he  called  upon  Captain  John 
Gunner,  of  the  Twenty-eighth  Precinct,  who  took  the  matter  in 
hand,  and  strove,  with  Detective  Campbell,  to  discover  who  had 
written  the  letter.  Upon  their  advice,  Mrs.  Strasburger  followed  the 
instructions  laid  down  in  the  anonymous  communication.  Shepro- 

362 


ATTEMPTED  ABDUCTION. 


363 


vided  herself  with  a dummy  package  encased  in  a large  envelope, 
and,  as  directed,  ostentatiously  displayed  it.  Detectives  were 
watching  her  all  the  time,  but  no  ofle  accosted  her.  Nothing  more 
was  heard  of  the  “ Executive  Committee  ” until  the  end  of  March. 

Rosa  was  in  the  habit  on  Sunday  of  attending  school  at  Dr. 
Heubsch’s  synagogue,  Lexington  Avenue  and  Sixty-fifth  Street. 
She  went  there  as  usual  upon  the  occasion  indicated,  and  in  the 
course  of  the  afternoon  Dr.  Heubsch  was  called  from  his  duties 
by  one  of  the  scholars,  who  gave  him  the  following  letter : 

“Dear  Sir: — I request  you  to  permit  my  daughter  to  leave  school,  as  a 
member  of  the  family  has  been  suddenly  taken  sick.” 

Dr.  Heubsch  was  very  bright  and  keen.  The  handwriting  of 
the  note  did  not  satisfy  him,  although  it  was  that  of  a lady’s,  and 
on  paper  which  such  a person  would  use.  It  flashed  through  his 
mind  that  Rosa  was  an  only  and  cherished  daughter,  her  father 
was  extraordinarily  particular  in  regard  to  her,  and  if  any  illness 
had  occurred  in  the  family  he  would  not  wish  to  have  her  startled 
by  the  breaking  of  the  intelligence  to  her  by  a stranger.  Dr. 
Heubsch,  therefore,  made  inquiry  as  to  the  delivery  of  the  letter, 
and  the  child  who  handed  it  to  him  pointed  out  a man  who  was 
lounging  against  the  railing  near  by.  At  Dr.  Heubsch’s  bidding 
the  child  went  to  the  man  and  asked  him  to  come  to  the  doctor. 
His  appearance  was  unprepossessing;  he  could  not  look  the 
doctor  in  the  face,  was  shabbily  clad,  and  was  certainly  not  a per- 
son whom  Mr.  Strasburger  would  choose  to  escort  his  child  home. 
To  the  doctor’s  inquiring  : “ Who  entrusted  you  with  this  note  ? ” 
the  man  made  some  muttered  reply  in  German.  Dr.  Heubsch 
“caught  him  up”  in  that  language,  and  interrogated  him  sharply. 
He  said  that  the  missive  had  been  put  in  his  hands  by  a man  with  a 
long  goatee,  and  gave  a further  description  which  tallied  with  that  of 
Mr.  Strasburger.  He  added  that  after  giving  him  the  note  the  gen- 
tleman had  darted  down  Fifty-first  Street.  This  last  statement  im- 
pelled Dr.  Heubsch  to  extreme  caution.  He  told  the  man  that  he 
could  go — that  it  would  be  all  right.  When  the  man  had  gone  Dr. 
Heubsch  sent  Miss  Strasburger  home,  when  it  was  discovered  that 
no  such  letter  had  been  written  by  any  member  of.  the  Strasburger 
family.  Mrs.  Strasburger  at  the  time  was  in  delicate  health,  and 
this  evident  plot  to  abduct  her  child,  in  addition  to  the  letter  of 
the  “ Executive  Committee,”  brought  about  a nervous  crisis,  so 
that  Mr.  Strasburger  urged  on  the  police  to  spare  neither  pains  or 


364 


BLACK-MAILING  LETTERS. 


expense  in  relieving  him  and  his  family  of  the  intense  anxiety 
from  which  they  were  suffering.  Then  came  the  following  letter 
to  Messrs.  L.  Strasburger  & Co.,  dated  March  27,  9.30  p.m.: 

“ We  attempted  to-day  to  abduct  your  daughter,  but  as  we  desired  to  show 
you  what  steps  we  can  take  when  needed,  you  no  doubt  have  an  idea  what 
we  shall  do.  We  warn  you  again  to  comply  strictly  with  our  wishes,  and  if  we 
are  not  assured  on  Monday  at  4 o’clock  that  you  have  what  is  desired  safely 
in  your  pocket,  we  shall  satisfy  you  that  there  will  arrive  a moment  for  us 
which  shall  be  a momentous  one  in  the  history  of  your  family.  Should  you 
not  comply,  you  will  compel  us  to  work  our  several  plans  and  to  doubly 
strengthen  them.  We  are  not  afraid  of  any  kind  of  crime. 

“ Executive  Committee,  3 A 1 S.” 

This  was  followed  in  twenty-four  hours  by  another  letter,  which 
ran : 

“ March  28,  1881. 

u Messrs.  L.  Strasburger  & Co., 

“No.  15  Maiden  Lane, 

“ City. 

“ Mr.  Strasburger : — Confirming  our  letter  of  yesterday,  we  call  your  attention 
to  the  necessity  of  your  carrying  the  desired  envelope  in  your  hand  wherever 
you  go,  and  in  such  a manner  that  every  one  can  see  it.  We  hope  to  see  this 
affair  settled  in  the  prescribed  way.  Otherwise,  unless  you  do  not  give  us 
immediate  cause,  we  cease  further  correspondence.  Should  you  not  comply 
with  our  wishes  we  advise  you  not  to  permit  your  family  to  breathe  too  much 
sea  air  during  the  coming  summer.  We  have  time  for  vengeance. 

“The  Executive  Committee,  3AiSex.” 

Nothing  was  done  by  Mr.  Strasburger  except  to  place  these  ter- 
rible letters  in  the  hands  of  Captain  Gunner.  He  laid  them  be- 
fore me,  and  acting  on  my  advice,  suggested  to  Mr.  Strasburger 
that  he  should  take  care  of  himself  and  permit  no  member  of  his 
family  to  go  out  of  the  house  without  proper  and  sufficient  escort. 
Upon  the  5th  of  April,  1881,  Captain  Gunner  showed  me  the  fol- 
lowing letters  : 

“ Louis  Strasburger,  Esq., 

“No.  128  East  61  st  Street, 

“ City. 

“ Dear  Mrs.  Strasburger : — Without  having  the  slightest  interest,  I can  write 
to  warn  you  once  more,  although  I am  afraid  that  it  will  be  useless.  In  your 
own  interests,  so  as  not  to  be  left  a widow  in  this  heartless  world,  try  with  Mrs. 
Adler  to  persuade  your  husband,  or  another,  to  settle  this  business  yourself.  I 
offer  you  my  aid  ; more  I cannot  do.  If  I find  in  the  Stoats  Zeitung  of  Sunday 


A CURIOUS  EPISTLE. 


365 


the  following  advertisement:  ‘Ludwig  Klabeksky,  Third  Avenue, — 

Recommend  all  sorts  of  tobacco,’  then  I am  certain  you  desire  my  help.  I 
subscribe  myself, 

“ Secretary, 

“ Executive  Committee 

The  second  letter  was  dated  April  4,  and  ran  as  follows ; 

“ Mrs.  L.  Strasburger  : 

“ Most  Respected  Ladies  : — Excuse  me  for  addressing  you.  I am  a Polander 
and  was  drawn  among  the  Nihilists  by  the  hatred  my  race  bears  towards  the 
Czar  of  Russia.  I entered  into  the  enterprise  with  a great  zeal,  as  my  genera- 
tion is  tyrannized  over  by  Russia  and  we  are  breeding  vengeance.  I receive  a 
very  high  salary  as  secretary  of  the  Nihilists,  which  makes  my  life  very  comfort- 
able, and  I have  only  in  return  to  translate  from  other  languages.  The  negotia- 
tions with  your  husband  cover  a period  of  six  months.  The  correspondence 
proved  a failure,  and  it  was  intended  a week  ago  that  your  daughter  should  be 
abducted,  but  I prevented  it,  as  I advised  threatening  letters  should  be  first  used. 
The  attempt  to  carry  away  your  daughter  from  school  was  only  a stupid  affair. 
The  real  plan  was  to  carry  Rosa  away  from  the  street,  to  force  or  coax  her  into 
a coach.  I prevented  it.  Then  came  threatening  letters  without  any  result. 
Last  Thursday  night  we  tried  to  avenge  ourselves  on  Mr.  Strasburger  by  a 
bomb,  but  I prevented  that.  When  Mr.  Strasburger  went  home  with  the  boy, 
one  of  us  saw  a package  in  his  pocket  and  cried  out  ‘ The  envelope,’  and  at 
once  the  orders  were  countermanded.  All  this  was  my  doing.  You  ask  me 
why  I have  so  much  sympathy  for  you.  I am  the  only  Jew  among  the  Section 
of  Sixteen  ; all  the  others  are  Catholics.  Therefore  I concluded  to  warn  you. 
But,  ladies,  I now  only  warn  you  that  it  may  be  too  late.  On  Tuesday  a resolu- 
tion will  be  adopted.  I will  advise  you  what  will  be  done.  I am  afraid  this 
will  be  adopted  on  Tuesday  night.  The  Fourth  Section  (the  section  of  ven- 
geance) consists  of  six  men.  It  will  be  authorized  to  use  the  tools  of  their 
goddess.  Then  it  will  be  too  late  for  me  to  warn  you,  as  every  one  will  act  in- 
dependently. For  the  present,  do  not  let  Rosa  leave  the  house  alone,  or  with 
Miss  Spelden.  Do  not  walk  any  distance  yourselves,  particularly  at  night.  I 
do  not  know  what  your  husband  can  do  for  your  safety,  as  the  people  charged 
with  the  execution  of  this  resolve  prize  their  success  more  than  their  lives. 
This  very  hour,  friend,  should  you  be  able  to  comply  with  the  wishes  of  the 
Nihilists,  though  to  a reduced  amount,  you  will  find  more  rest  and  safety  than 
at  present.  Were  I in  your  situation  I couldn’t  sleep  a wink.  If  you  comply 
you  might  be  able  to  open  other  negotiations.  Assuring  you  that  I have  acted 
without  any  interest  in  the  Nihilist  cause,  I remain, 

“ Secretary, 

“ A.  E.  3d  Avenue. 

“ P.  S — I can  be  found  by  advertisement  over  a well  known  name  in  the  Staats 
Zeitung  of  Tuesday  and  the  German  News  of  Monday  night,  in  which  you 
might  shortly  announce  what  your  conclusions  are.  Be  brief,  short  and  quick.” 

I suggested  that  Mrs.  Strasburger  should  comply  with  the  sug- 


365 


a detective’s  disguises. 


gestion  in  these  devilish  communications,  and  in  the  papers  named 
the  following  advertisement  was  inserted  : 

“ I am  not  afraid.  Cannot  give  much.  State  lowest  price  and  place.” 

Also  this  one  : 

“ I have  $ 4600 . May  raise  $5000.” 

Then  came  in  an  envelope  the  following  suggestion  from  the 
Nihilists. 

“ Hurry  them  up.” 

It  was  followed  by  a scrap  clipped  from  a German  newspaper 
which  read : 

“ Reward  Offered. — Mayor  Howell  was  empowered  by  the  Board  of  Aider- 
men  to  offer  a reward  for  the  discovery  of  the  criminals  who  on  March  12  laid 
a grenade,  filled  with  dynamite,  on  the  doorstep  of  James  McKesney,  No.  175 
Clinton  Street,  Brooklyn.” 

All  of  us  were  now  very  much  exercised  over  the  turn  affairs 
had  taken.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  both  Captain  Gunner 
and  Detective  Campbell  were  working  zealously.  A day  or  two 
later  they  were  chagrined  from  the  fact  that  either  the  principal  or 
an  accomplice  of  the  black-mailers  had  been  seen  at  Mr.  Stras- 
burger’s  house.  When  one  of  the  letters  was  received,  the  door-bell 
was  rung,  and  the  governess,  Miss  Spelton,  answered  the  sum- 
mons. A frowzy-looking  fellow  handed  a note  to  Miss  Spelton, 
who  looked  at  the  address  and  said  that  Mrs.  Strasburger  was  not 
in.  Upon  this  the  fellow  snatched  the  missive  from  her  hand, 
ran  away,  and  it  was  afterwards  received  through  the  mail.  Detec- 
tive Campbell  was  worn  out  by  his  activity  in  the  case.  One  day 
he  would  appear  as  an  Italian  rag  picker ; another  he  masqueraded 
as  a coachman  ; then  as  a ragged  laborer,  and  again  as  a tramp. 
Finally,  it  was  resolved  to  post  him  in  the  neighborhood,  so  that 
he  could  be  constantly  on  the  watch.  Upon  the  7th  of  April  a lad, 
who  was  evidently  ignorant  of  what  he  was  doing,  went  to  Mr. 
Strasburger’s  house  and  left  the  following  letter  on  the  stoop  : 

“ What  is  the  meaning  of  all  this  ? If,  on  receipt  of  this,  before  any  one 
leaves  the  house,  Miss  Speldon  will,  with  an  envelope  in  her  hand,  go  through 
Sixty-first  Street  to  Central  Park,  and  enter  the  same,  1 will  regret  I have  writ- 
ten to  you.  These  are  my  thanks.  If  it  is  done  as- before  indicated,  Miss  Spel- 


“i’ll  BLOW  YOUR  BRAIN'S  OUT  ! ” 367 

don  will  have  to  drop  an  envelope  as  soon  as  she  hears  a pistol  shot,  and  not 
look  round.  This  will  probably  be  done  on  Sixty-first  Street.” 

It  so  happened  that  Detective  Campbell  was  in  the  house  at 
the  time.  He  told  Miss  Spelton  to  do  precisely  as  the  letter 
requested,  and  then  he  got  out  of  the  house  by  strategy,  knowing 
perfectly  well  that  the  house  was  watched.  Scaling  a fence,  he 
reached  the  basement  of  a house  on  Sixtieth  Street.  Here  he 
was  delayed  somewhat  by  the  suspiciousness  of  a servant,  but  he 
succeeded  in  gaining  her  confidence  by  exhibiting  his  badge, 
and  then  darted  towards  Fourth  Avenue.  He  eventually  gained 
the  corner  of  Madison  Avenue  and  Sixtieth  Street,  where  there 
was  a vacant  space,  which  gave  him  a clear  view  up  and  down  and 
toward  the  Park.  Concealing  himself  near  a low  fence,  he  scanned 
the  neighborhood  and  saw  a youngish  looking  man,  evidently  a 
foreigner,  lounging  at  the  corner  of  Madison  Avenue  and  Sixty- 
first  Street.  Campbell  immediately  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
this  was  one  of  Mr.  Strasburger’s  persecutors.  In  a short  while 
he  saw  the  man  signalling  to  some  one,  and  a few  moments  after- 
wards another  fellow  came  along  Sixty-first  Street,  from  the  east, 
making  signals  for  the  first  man  to  retire.  The  second  man 
passed  on  without  speaking,  crossed  Madison  Avenue,  and  con- 
tinued westward  until  he  halted  between  Madison  and  Fifth 
avenues.  Then  he  signalled  to  the  first  man  to  go  up  the  avenue. 
Campbell  now  knew  that  Miss  Spelton  was  coming,  and  accord- 
ingly creeped  up  towards  the  first  man.  Miss  Spelton  finally  ap- 
peared, and  Campbell  braced  himself  for  the  coming  struggle. 
As  the  lady  turned  the  corner  of  Sixty-first  Street,  the  second  man 
discharged  a pistol  and  Miss  Spelton  dropped  the  envelope.  In 
an  instant  the  first  man  darted  forward  towards  the  supposed  fort- 
une. Campbell  glided  towards  where  the  envelope  lay,  keeping 
pace  with  the  man,  who,  in  his  anxiety  to  reach  what  he  thought 
was  the  treasure,  did  not  notice  his  Nemesis.  A few  more  steps, 
and  then,  looking  up,  he  caught  sight  of  Campbell.  Putting  his 
hand  in  his  pistol-pocket  he  exclaimed  in  broken  English  : 

“You  son  of  a , I’ll  blow,  your  brains  out  ! ” 

Campbell,  undeterred,  seized  him  by  the  collar  and  put  the  muz- 
zle of  his  revolver  close  to  the  man’s  face.  The  prisoner  immedi- 
ately seized  the  weapon  and  in  so  doing  struck  Campbell’s  hand, 

The  detective’s  finger  was  on  the  trigger  and  the  pistol  was  dis- 
charged, the  bullet  entering  the  Nihilist’s  left  eye  and  killing  him 


368 


JAY  GOULD. 


instantly.  His  body  was  carried  to  the  East  Fifty-ninth  Street  sta- 
tion, where  an  examination  of  his  clothing  revealed  his  identity. 
He  proved  to  be  Edward  Herman  Johannes  Sagart.  He  was  born 
in  Berlin,  was  only  twenty-three  years  old,  and  had  at  one  time 
been  a butler. 

The  plotted  abduction  of  Miss  Strasburger  was  not,  after  all, 
such  a “ stupid  affair  ” as  some  people  supposed.  Documents  in 
the  dead  man’s  pockets  led  to  the  discovery  that  before  Sagart 
visited  Dr.  Heubsch  he  had  hired  a room  in  a secluded  neighbor- 
hood, and  had  actually  provided  garments  and  food  for  thedittle 
girl.  His  association  with  Nihilistic  organizations  was  also  amply 
proved. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  his  companion — Felix  Vogel — who  was 
arrested  the  same  day,  was  as  deeply  in  the  plot  as  Sagart ; but  it 
is  to  be  doubted  if  any  one  beside  these  two  knew  anything  of  the 
details  of  the  affair.  There  were,  however,  several  individuals  to 
whom  Sagart  had  spoken,  in  a general  way,  of  making  money  by 
frightening  a rich  man  into  the  payment  of  many  thousand  dollars 
for  peace, [and  of  taking  the  rich  man’s  daughter  away  to  hold  for  a 
ransom.  Had  those  individuals  been  honest  they  could  have  saved 
Mr.  Strasburger  and  his  family  much  anxiety,  and  the  life  of  Sagart 
would  have  been  spared. 

Although  Jay  Gould  is  perhaps  the  wealthiest  man  on  this  con- 
tinent to-day,  the  criminal  classes  regard  him  as  a person  who  has 
resources  of  such  a peculiar  character  that  it  is  well  to  let  him 
alone.  Once,  however,  his  name  appears  as  complainant  on  the 
records.  In  October,  1881,  Colonel  J.  Howard  Welles,  a relation 
of  Gideon  Welles  (once  Secretary  of  the  Navy),  whose  father  was 
Richard  J.  Welles,  a New  York  lawyer,  conceived  the  plan  of  ex- 
torting money  from  the  arch-financier.  Colonel  Welles  believed 
that  Mr.  Gould  could  be  frightened  into  paying  a large  sum  of 
money  to  secure  peace  of  mind. . And  so,  on  October  17,  at  the 
Windsor  Hotel,  he  wrote  the  following  letter  and  sent  it  to  Mr. 
Gould  : 

“ Dear  Sir : — It  is  my  painful  duty  to  inform  you  that  within  six  days  of  the 
date  of  this  letter  your  body  will  have  returned  to  the  dust  from  whence  it 
came.  I,  therefore,  entreat  you  to  make  your  peace  with  God,  and  prepare  for 
the  fate  which  awaits  you.  It  is  no  wish  of  mine  to  take  your  life,  but  I am  in- 
spired and  requested  by  the  all-living  God  to  do  so  as  a public  necessity,'  and 
for  the  benefit  of  the  community  at  large.  You  must  undoubtedly  be  aware  that 
you  have  been  a rogue  of  the  first  water  all  your  life.  Through  your  artful 


“give  him  time  to  repent.” 


369 

cunning  you  have  ruined  thousands  of  people  of  their  birthright ; you  have  had 
no  mercy ; you  have  robbed  the  rich  and  the  poor,  the  father  and  the  fatherless, 
the  widow  and  the  orphan,  indiscriminately,  of  their  last  dollar;  and  through 
your  villany  have  wrought  ruin  and  destruction  on  thousands  of  families.  All 
this  you  have  done  under  a cloak,  by  circulating  false  reports,  bribing  newspa- 
pers, making  false  statements,  committing  perjury,  and  by  artful  cunning.  In 
fact,  you  have  robbed  both  great  and  small,  and  now  the  law  says  that  you  must 
pay  for  nil  with  your  death,  as  a public  necessity,  in  order  to  save  thousands 
of  others  from  pain  and  destruction. 

“ Your  death  will  be  an  easy  one,  for  I propose  shooting  you  through  the  heart, 
if  possible,  and  if  my  first  shot  is  not  instant  death,  I will  give  you  the  coup  de 
grace  with  the  second  shot,  so  that  your  death  shall  be  quick  and  easy.  Don’t 
hold  out  the  hope  that  this  is  a threatening  letter,  sent  for  stock-jobbing  pur- 
poses, for  I don’t  own  a single  share  of  stock  of  any  kind,  neither  am  I interested 
in  any.  This  is  simply  the  will  of  God,  and  He  has  chosen  me  to  carry  it  out. 
He  has  appeared  to  me  in  a dream,  and  requested  me  to  consult  you  as  the 
party  interested,  and  in  doing  so  God  has  assured  me  that  it  is  by  Divine  Prov- 
idence I am  chosen  to  do  this  act,  and  that  by  so  doing  I will  become  a public 
benefactor ; and  I have  sworn  and  taken  a solemn  oath  before  the  all-living  God 
that  I will  put  you  to  death.  I intended  to  have  shot  you  last  Friday  (yester- 
day), when  I saw  you  with  Barrow  and  Sage.  I had  my  pistol,  ready  cocked, 
but  a voice  from  the  Lord  sounded  in  my  ear,  saying : ‘Hold  on;  give  him 
time  to  repent,  lest  he  be  sent  into  everlasting  punishment.’ 

“Now  make  your  peace  with  God  and  prepare  for  the  fate  which  awaits  you, 
and  may  the  Lord  have  mercy  on  your  soul.  I am  only  an  agent  of  the  Lord. 
The  Lord  appeared  to  me  again  last  night  and  said:  ‘Jay  Gould  must  surely 
die;’  and  when  I reasoned  with  the  Lord  in  my  dream  I told  Him  my  life 
would  also  be  required,  and  that  I should  be  hung.  The  Lord  answered  me 
that  no  harm  should  come  to  me ; the  rope  was  not  made,  neither  was  the  hemp 
grown  to  make  the  rope  to  hang  me  with,  and  that  He  would  deliver  me  out  of 
the  hands  of  mine  enemies.  It  is  by  the  express  will  and  command  of  God 
that  I am  chosen  to  put  you  to  death,  and  I have  sworn  before  the  all-living 
God,  the  great  Jehovah  and  the  Redeemer  of  the  world,  and  having  taken  a 
solemn  oath  I will  carry  it  out  within  six  days  if  the  proper  opportunity  occurs. 
Therefore,  be  prepared  to  meet  your  fate  at  any  moment,  and  may  God  have 
mercy  on  your  soul. 

“1  remain,- sir, 

“An  Old  Victim.” 

This  letter  was  read  by  a confidential  employee  who  was  not  at 
first  disposed  to  trouble  Mr.  Gould  about  it.  But  there  was  some- 
thing in  its  tenor  which  indicated  that  the  writer  meant  at  least  part 
of  what  he  wrote,  and  that  it  would  be  just  as  well  to  become  ac- 
quainted with  him.  Mr.  Gould  was  not  in  the  imminent  peril  his 
correspondent  indicated.  For  many  years  Mr.  Gould  rarely 
moved  in  this  city  when  engaged  on  business  without  a confiden- 
tial agent  having  him  under  surveillance.  Mr.  Washington  E.  Con- 
24 


370 


AN  “ OLD  VICTIM.’ 


ner  was  immediately  placed  in  charge  of  the  case.  He  naturally 
went  to  police  headquarters,  and,  as  naturally,  Inspector  Byrnes 
was  directed  to  do  whatever  might  seem  necessary  in  the  premises. 
His  first  act  was  to  put  “shadows”  on  Mr.  Gould,  in  order  to 
watch  any  man  who  might  be  lying  in  wait  for  him,  or  dogging  his 
footsteps. 

Meantime,  the  “ Old  Victim  ” continued  his  correspondence  and 
began  to  insert  advertisements  ia  newspapers.  He  also  sent  Mr. 
Gould,  in  order  to  carry  on  the  advertising  correspondence,  a 
cypher  key,  in  which  familiar  words  were  to  represent  certain 
stocks.  Gradually,  the  plan  of  the  Old  Victim  ” was  developed. 
He  said  in  one  of  his  written  communications  that  he  had  gambled 
in  Wall  Street  and  lost  hundreds  of  thousands  of  dollars.  He 
desired  to  recoup  himself.  In  other  words,  he  wanted  “ points  ” 
on  the  stock  market  direct  from  the  bosom  of  Mr.  Jay  Gould.  The 
matter  ran  on  for  three  weeks,  when  “ Old  Victim,”  having  received 
many  “ points  ” which  did  not  appear  to  have  been  taken  advan- 
tage of,  addressed  Mr.  Gould  the  following  letter : 

“New  York,  Nov.  ii,  1881. 

“ My  Dear  Sir : — I thank  you  for  the  two  personals  in  to-day’s  Herald , though 
I expected  none  from  you  this  morning,  as  I had  no  intention,  when  writing  to 
you  yesterday,  of  giving  you  the  trouble  of  replying  to  my  letter.  I gave  you  the 
information  asked  for  in  your  personal  of  yesterday,  namely,  the  cost  of  the  two 
stocks  I had  purchased  through  your  advice ; and  if  I asked  too  much  in  too 
short  a time,  as  you  say,  it  was  owing  to  my  anxiety  on  account  of  the  decline 
of  ‘ Salvation,’  early  yesterday  afternoon.  I had  no  intention,  I can  assure 
you,  of  advancing  the  price  of  ‘ Salvation  ’ simply  on  my  account,  only  I did 
hope,  for  the  reason  I gave,  that  you  would  not  let  it  go  below  its  cost  to  me. 
The  ‘ Salvation  ’ my  relative  purchased  for  me  on  Wednesday  was  on  the  usual 
margin,  but  his  brokers  yesterday,  as  I mentioned,  refused  to  carry  any  more 
for  him  under  a 20  per  cent,  margin.  This  forced  him  to  purchase  for  me  five 
hundred  shares  of  ‘ Salvation  ’ yesterday  from  another  house,  who  bought  it  for 
him  on  the  usual  margin.  I think  commission  houses  are  disinclined  to  pur* 
chase  * Salvation  ’ except  for  good  parties  with  good  bank  accounts.” 

Now,  it  is  necessary  to  explain  that  the  cypher  key  previously 
mentioned  makes  “ Salvation  ” the  indicator  for  Manhattan  Ele- 
vated Railroad  stock,  while  the  personals  referred  to  were : 

“Texas  Correspondent. — Up-town  Salvation.  Then  let  me  know  at  once 
how  you  stand.  Who  is  using  the  same  heading  ? Are  you  trifling  ? ” 

“ Up-town  Salvation  ” meant  “ bull  Manhattan  Elevated,”  and  the 
question  about  the  two  persons  using  the  same  heading  arose 


WATCHING  THE  LETTER-BOXES.  37  I 

from  some  one  who  was  curious  trying  to  solve  the  mystery  by  in 
serting  misleading  notices.  The  second  personal  was : 

“ Negotiate  Salvation.— Yes.  Keep  Windsor.  Let  go  Concord.  Give 
me  the  cost  of  Salvation.” 

This  was  in  regard  to  a query  by  letter  from  the  “ Old  Victim.” 
It  meant  “Keep  Western  Union.  Sell  Pacific  Mail.”  Then 
came  the  personal  alluded  to  in  the  “ Old  Victim’s  ” letter,  which 
said  he  asked  too  much  in  too  short  a time.  It  added  : 

“ Be  more  reasonable.” 

After  that  came : 

“ Negotiate. — Can’t  understand  how  it  costs  so  much.  Give  me  particulars. 
Do  not  be  alarmed.” 

This  had  reference  to  the  complaint  that  exorbitant  demands  of 
the  brokers  forced  “ Old  Victim  ” to  take  a twenty  per  cent, 
margin.  * 

And  so  it  went  on — letters  and  personals  and  the  police  playing 
at  cross  purposes,  until  it  was  discovered  that  the  bulk  of  the 
letters  addressed  to  Mr.  Jay  Gould  by  “ Old  Victim  ” came  from 
Post-office  Station  E.  Still,  this  afforded  a small  chance  of  reach- 
ing the  writer,  as  some  letters  were  posted  in  other  districts. 
However,  a watch  was  kept  on  the  letter-boxes,  and  letters  re- 
ceived at  Station  E for  Mr.  Gould  were,  by  an  arrangement  with 
the  postal  officials,  allowed  to  be  scrutinized  by  Central  Office 
detectives.  This  plan  failed,  because  it  was  found  necessary,  in 
order  to  catch  the  correspondent,  to  have  a watch  kept  on  each 
letter-box,  and  arrest  any  man  who  put  a letter  in  for  Mr.  Gould 
in  the  handwriting  of  “ Old  Victim  ” on  the  spot. 

A plan  was  first  devised  to  have  employees  of  the  Post-office 
work  in  concert  with  the  detectives,  but  this  did  not  appear  feasi 
ble,  as  it  would  first  have  necessitated  the  giving  away  of  the 
secret  to  men  who  might  be  “ leaky,”  and  they  might  not  be 
sufficiently  alert,  or  sufficiently  expert  in  handwriting  to  be  of 
service.  Finally  it  was  agreed  that  each  box  of  the  district  should 
be  watched  by  an  employee  of  the  Post-office  and  one  or  more  de- 
tectives. If  a letter  was  dropped  into  a box  the  Post-office  em- 
ployee would  keep  an  eye  on  the  depositor  and  also  scan  the 
letter.  If  it  were  addressed  to  Jay  Gould  he  would  be  particu- 
larly careful  to  note  whether  there  was  any  resemblance  between 
the  handwriting  of  the  address  and  that  of  “ Old  Victim.” 


3 72 


CAPTURED. 


The  day  chosen  was  Sunday,  November  13,  1881.  The  letter- 
boxes were  under  surveillance  from  an  early  hour,  and  the  plan 
worked  well  until  about  noon,  when  a patrolman  of  the  Twenty- 
ninth  Precinct,  who  was  not  in  the  secret  and  who  had  been 
watching  the  actions  of  two  Central  Office  detectives  who  had 
charge  of  a box  in  company  with  a Post-office  official,  became  sus- 
picious. He  was  not  satisfied  with  the  explanation  of  one  of  the 
officers  that  they  were  detectives  acting  under  orders  from  Inspec- 
tor Byrnes,  and  was  about  to  take  one  of  them  into  custody  when 
another  detective  passed  who  was  acquainted  with  the  patrolman, 
and  the  matter  was  explained.  Fortunately  the  “Old  Victim  ” did 
not  choose  that  box  as  his  depository.  But  at  three  o’clock  a 
sprucely-dressed  man  with  a military  bearing  went  to  the  box  at 
the  corner  of  Thirty-fourth  Street  and  Seventh  Avenue,  carelessly 
dropped  in  a letter,  and  walked  off.  John  Healy,  a postman, 
quickly  opened  the  box  and  found  a letter  addressed  to  Jay  Gould. 
Detectives  Phil  Riley  and  Wood  were  instantly  informed  of  the 
fact,  and  a glance  at  the  handwriting  of  the  address  satisfied 
them  that  the  man  who  had  dropped  it  in  the  box  was  worth  de- 
taining. He  was  halted,  questioned,  the  letter  was  re-examined, 
and  Detective  Riley  at  once  decided  that  he  had  Mr.  Gould’s  tor- 
mentor in  his  grasp. 

The  prisoner  was  taken  to  police  headquarters  and  proved  to 
be  Colonel  Welles.  When  confronted  with  Mr.  Washington  E. 
Conner  and  other  gentlemen  in  the  interest  of  Mr.  Gould 
made  some  very  lame  excuses  and  shammed  insanity.  The  same 
defence  was  made  for  him  when  he  was  arraigned  at  the  Tombs 
police  court.  He  was  able  to  exercise  the  strangest  kind  of 
personal  influence  over  Mr.  Gould,  and  after  passing  a few  weeks 
in  prison  was  released  and  was  never  prosecuted. 

It  was  not  believed  at  any  time  that  “ Old  Victim  ” had  any 
accomplices.  He  coined  the  scheme  without  aid,  and  if  he  had 
been  a sharper  man  he  would  have  made  money  out  of  Mr.  Gould, 
as  it  was  in  Mr.  Gould’s  interest  to  humor  him  in  the  matter  of 
giving  “points.”  Many  a stock  gambler  would  have  given  Colonel 
Welles  a check  for  $100,000  if  he  had  known  the  plot,  and  that 
Colonel  Welles  had  driven  in  an  entering  wedge  by  getting  up  a 
newspaper  “ personal  ” correspondence  in  which  a cypher  key 
was  brought  into  requisition. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 


PRIZE-FIGHTING  AND  FIGHTERS. — THE  LAW  ON  THE  SUBJECT. — 
EARLY  HEROES  IN  THE  “ RING.” — AN  ADVENTURE  WITH  “ BILL  ” 

HARRINGTON. JOHN  MORRISSEY.  — HIS  ARRIVAL  IN  NEW  YORK. 

— JOHN  L.  SULLIVAN. HIS  LIFE. FARO. “ EDE  ” NORRIS  AND 

HIS  VISITORS. — LEGAL  ASPECT  OF  GAMBLING. — WHY  IT  IS  NOT 
SUPPRESSED. — A REMEDY. PLAYING  ON  A SYSTEM. — A SUCCESS- 

FUL GAMBLER.— POLICY,  KENO  AND  POKER. — MATTHIAS  DANSER’S 
MONEY. — CUTTING  COUPONS  BY  CANDLE  LIGHT. — $8000  UNDER 
SEWING-MACHINE  PLATES. — A GAMBLER’S  FORTUNE  GIVEN  TO 
THE  CHURCH. 

The  Penal  Code  of  the  State  of  New  York  contains  not  a few 
sections  relating  to  the  “ manly  art  of  self-defence.”  First,  prize- 
fighting  of  every  description  is  expressly  forbidden,  and  the  dire 
penalties  consequent  upon  a breach  of  this  law  are  fully  set  forth. 
There  are  other  sections  prohibiting  any  one  from  leaving  the  State 
with  even  the  intention' of  engaging  in  a prize-fight.  The  punish- 
ment for  this  offence  is  very  severe.  And  last,  another  provision 
is  made  in  this  Code  for  disciplining  such  publishers  of  newspa- 
pers and  others  who  print  or  send  challenges  with  a view  of  engag- 
ing in  a prize-fight.  It  can  be  seen,  therefore,  that  the  law  is  de- 
termined to  put  down  prize-fighting  and  everything  connected 
with  it — in  theory.  But  not  in  fact.  The  columns  of  the  daily  and 
weekly  press  contain  numberless  challenges.  That  the  law  is  a 
dead  letter  in  this  particular  is  patent  to  all ; perhaps  the  ma- 
jority of  people  are  not  aware  that  such  a statute  is  part  and  par- 
cel of  our  laws.  Prize-fighting  takes  place  every  day  under  the 
very  noses  of  the  authorities,  and  yet  no  steps  are  taken  to  pre- 
vent it,  except  in  very  rare  instances.  Once,  however,  some  years 
ago,  Mr.  Richard  K.  Fox,  the  proprietor  of  the  Police  Gazette , 
was  indicted  for  publishing  some  such  challenges.  What  that  in- 
dictment accomplished  has  always  been  a mystery  to  me  and 
everybody  else.  Nothing  ever  came  of  it  to  my  knowledge,  and 
I was  in  a position  to  have  heard. 

373 


374  “BILL”  HARRINGTON. 

“ But,”  some  persons  will  say,  “if  you  knew  prize-fighting  was 
against  the  law,  why  didn’t  you  put  a stop  to  it  when  you  were 
superintendent  of  police  ? ” 

Let  me  relate  what  happened  once  when  I made  an  attempt  to 
enforce  it.  In  1884  it  was  announced  that  John  L.  Sullivan 
and  Greenfield  were  to  fight  at  Madison  Square  Garden.  Mr.  Ed- 
son  was  mayor  at  the  time,  and  it  was  at  his  instigation  that  I took 
steps  to  prevent  the  fight  taking  place.  When  consulted,  the  po- 
lice commissioners  concurred,  and  both  Sullivan  and  Greenfield 
were  arrested  on  a charge  of  intending  to  engage  in  a prize-fight. 
The  arguments  were  heard  before  Judge  Barrett,  who  decided  that 
it  would  be  perfectly  legal  for  the  two  principals  to  engage  in  a 
sparring  contest  for  “points.”  If  it  came  to  “ slugging,”  then  the 
police  were  empowered  to  stop  the  fight.  I accordingly  attended 
the  “ exhibition,”  accompanied  by  Inspector  Thorne  and  Captain 
Williams.  In  the  first  two  rounds  the  fighting  was  confined  to 
scientific  sparring  for  “ points,”  but  after  that  it  became  evident 
to  me  that  Sullivan  intended  to  “ knock  out  ” his  opponent,  who 
was  cut  and  bleeding  profusely.  It  became  a “ slugging  ” match, 
and  I accordingly  had  them  arrested  ; and  they  were  indicted  by 
the  Grand  Jury. 

At  the  trial,  however,  I was  the  only  witness  who  would  swear 
that  it  was  anything  else  than  a mere  scientific  contest.  Inspector 
Thorne  and  Captain  Williams  said  they  had  often  seen  harder 
fighting,  as  if  that  was  any  excuse  for  breaking  the  law.  Inspec- 
tor Murray,  who  saw  the  fight,  agreed  with  me,  but  although  it  had 
been  arranged  to  have  him  called  as  a witness,  he  failed  to  put  in 
an  appearance,  nor  was  his  name  mentioned  in  court. 

Thus  it  will  be  seen  that  it  was  very  little  use  for  me  to  attempt 
an  enforcement  of  the  law  in  this  matter. 

In  my  time  I have  been  acquainted  with  a great  many  prize- 
fighters, particularly  during  my  early  connection  with  the  force.  I 
knew  “ Tom  ” Hyer,  an  adventure  with  whom  is  told  in  a previous 
chapter.  He  was  really  the  first  champion  of  America,  and  his 
fights  with  “Country  McCloskey  ” and  “Yankee”  Sullivan 
proved  him  to  be  one  of  the  greatest  pugilists  who  ever  stood  in  a 
ring.  Then  there  was  “ Bill  ” Harrington.  He  was  a fine,  well- 
built  young  fellow,  a regular  giant  in  strength.  At  the  time  of  my 
first  meeting  him— in  1849 — he  was  in  his  prime.  He  introduced 
himself  to  me.  The  way  it  happened  was  this  : I was  on  duty  on 


JOHN  MORRISSEY. 


375 


Broadway  early  one  Sunday  morning,  and  .met  him  coming  up 
the  street  making  “ Rome  howl,”  with  a number  of  equally  noisy 
companions.  The  party  had  evidently  been  making  a night  of  it 
and  were  on  their  way  home.  I went  up  to  them  and  requested 
that  they  should  refrain  from  making  such  a disturbance,  as  it  was 
Sunday  morning. 

“ Who  the are  you  who  talk  so  big?”  asked  the  largest 

man  of  the  crowd.  (It  must  be  remembered  that  in  those  days 
the  police  wore  no  uniform.) 

“I’m  an  officer,”  I replied,  exhibiting  my  star;  “and  if  you 
don’t  keep  quiet  I shall  have  to  run  you  in.” 

“ Well,”  he  said,  “ I don’t  think  you  can  take  us  all  in  ; ” when 
another  of  the  party,  who  afterwards  told  me  he  was  Harrington, 
interposed,  saying  to  me  : “ You’ve  spoken  in  a gentlemanly  man- 
ner, and  ” — then  he  turned  to  his  companions — “ if  he  can’t  take  you 
in,  he  and  I will.  So  keep  quiet.”  There  was  no  further  noise. 

“ Awful  ” Gardener  was  another  bright  and  shining  ornament  of 
the  “ mystic  circle  ” in  those  days.  I was  well  acquainted  with  him. 

I knew  John  Morrissey,  too — knew  him  when  he  was  a long  way 
from  being  the  John  Morrissey  of  Saratoga,  with  white  flannel 
suits  and  huge  diamond  rings.  I knew  him  when  he  was  John 
Morrissey  the  prize-fighter,  John  Morrissey  the  drunkard,  without 
money  or  friends,  battered  in  clothes  as  well  as  in  person.  Before 
coming  to  New  York  he  kept  a veritable  “ rum  hole  ” in  Troy,  then 
the  favorite  resort  of  gamblers,  thieves  and  dissolute  persons  of  the 
lowest  grade.  Such  a nuisance  did  his  place  become,  in  fact,  that 
it  was  closed  by  order  of  the  authorities.  At  the  time  he  arrived  in 
this  city  a local  election  was  about  to  be  held  in  one  of  the  up-town 
wards,  and  threats  were  openly  made  by  a certain  element — the 
Plug  Uglies  and  others — that  they  would  smash  the  ballot-boxes 
and  keep  the  respectable  voters  from  the  polls.  Violence  must 
needs  be  met  with  violence.  Morrissey  was  engaged  to  hire  a 
gang  of  as  big  ruffians  as  himself  to  protect  the  polls.  He  did  so, 
and  from  that  time  began  his  upward  course.  He  opened  a small 
gambling  house,  dressed  decently,  and  became  a teetotaller — al- 
most. He  made  money  rapidly,  and  in  a few  years  his  establish- 
ment was  the  most  elegantly  furnished  of  the  kind  in  the  country. 

Morrissey  now  and  then  broke  loose  from  his  self-imposed  re- 
straint in  regard  to  the  use  of  liquor,  and  was  very  quarrelsome 
when  intoxicated.  Early  one  morning  in  May,  1853,  he  and  a 


1 


37<> 


JOHN  L.  SULLIVAN. 


friend  named  Patterson  attempted  to  “ clean  out  ” the  Girard  House 
in  Chambers  Street.  They  first  threw  a large  water-pitcher  at  the 
bar-tender,  and  then,  when  one  of  the  other  employees,  named  Con- 
way, interfered  Morrissey  fired  at  him.  He  missed  his  aim,  and 
the  ball,  after  shattering  a window,  passed  through  the  hat  of  a gen- 
tleman who  was  walking  along  West  Broadway.  Conway  ran  for 
a policeman,  but  even  when  he  returned  with  two  they  were  afraid 


(From  a Photograph.) 

to  arrest  Morrissey,  who  drew  an  ugly-looking  dagger  and  threat- 
ened to  rip  open  any  man  who  approached  him.  The  officers  re- 
tired, but  returned  very  shortly  with  assistance.  Morrissey  and 
his  companion  then  surrendered,  and  were  locked  up. 

John  Lawrence  Sullivan  was  born  on  the  15th  of  October,  1858, 
in  that  part  of  Boston,  Mass.,  now  known  as  the  Highlands,  but 
which  then  formed  the  town  of  Roxbury.  He  received  a common- 
school  education  at  the  Dwight  School,  and  was  an  expert  in  ball- 
playing from  his  very  earliest  days,  having  been  connected  with 


JOHN  L.  SULLIVAN. 


377 


. 


378 


HIS  HISTORY. 


such  clubs  as  the  old  Tremonts  and  ^Etnas,  etc.,  long  before 
any  professional  nines  were  put  into  the  field.  Shortly  after  leav- 
ing school,  young  Sullivan  commenced  studying  for  the  priesthood, 
but  after  eleven  months  application  in  this  direction  concluded  he 
was  not  intended  for  a priest,  and  so  it  came  about  that  he  drifted 
into  playing  ball  for  a living.  He  had  always  been  “ handy  with 
his  fists,”  and  had  gained  quite  a reputation  among  the  “ boys  ” at 
the  South  End  by  the  manner  in  which  he  disposed  of  his  antagonists. 
It  was  not  until  October  or  November,  1878,  when  he  was  just 
twenty  years  of  age,  that  he  made  his  first  public  appearance  as  a 
pugilist.  It  was  in  Boston  Music  Hall,  and  the  occasion  was  a 
benefit  to  Dan  Dwyer.  His  opponent  was  “ Cockey  ” Woods, 
whom  he  bested  easily,  and  in  such  a scientific  manner  as  to  arouse^ 
the  enthusiasm  of  the  knowing  ones.  In  the  year  following  he 
had  a lively  set-to  with  Dwyer  himself,  who  was  knocked  out 
in  short  order.  Upon  April  6,  1880,  he  sparred  with  the  vet- 
eran Joe  Goss,  and* on  the  28th  of  June,  of  the  same  year,  with 
George  Rooke,  and  in  both  of  these  contests  he  came  off  victorious. 
A trip  to  Cincinnati  in  the  fall  of  1880  resulted  in  his  sparring  John 
Donaldson  at  the  Opera  House.  Subsequently,  the  two  fought  on 
Christmas  Eve,  Donaldson  being  pretty  badly  used  up.  His  first 
exploit  of  any  account  in  New  York  was  his  fight,  March  31,  1881, 
at  Harry  Hill’s,  with  Steve  Taylor,  whom  he  defeated  in  two  min- 
utes and  a half.  Then  he  fought  eight  rounds  with  John  Flood, 
on  the  1 6th  of  May,  on  a barge  up  the  Hudson  River.  Sullivan 
had  not  a mark  on  him  to  speak  of,  while  Flood  was  badly  pun- 
ished. His  great  fight  with  Ryan  took  place  near  Kansas  City  on 
the  7th  of  February,  1882,  when  nine  rounds  were  fought  in  eleven 
minutes.  Then  on  the  14th  of  July,  of  the  same  year,  came  his 
famous  contest  with  “ Tug  ” Wilson,  resulting  in  what  was  called  a 
draw,  although  Sullivan  was  undoubtedly  the  better  man  and  out- 
fought Wilson  at  every  point. 

Sullivan’s  next  venture  was  with  an  athletic  combination,  and  this 
led  to  travel  over  the  greater  part  of  the  United  States.  It  was  at 
this  time  that  Sullivan  issued  his  famous  challenge,  open  to  all, 
offering  $100  to  $ 10,000  that  no  man  could  “stop”  him  in  four 
rounds.  This  challenge  was  accepted  by  not  a few,  but  in  no  case 
was  Sullivan  defeated — he  always  won,  with  plenty  to  spare.  On 
July  14,  1883,  he  fought  Charley  Mitchell,  and  on  August  6 fol- 
lowing, Slade,  the  “ Maori,”  made  an  exhibition  of  himself.  Both 


379 


“opening  a game.” 

events  came  off  at  Madison  Square  Garden.  For  the  next  eight 
or  ten  months  Sullivan  travelled  with  Al.  Smith’s  company  of  ath- 
letes. Then,  on  the  ioth  of  November,  1884,  a match  was  made 
between  him  and  Greenfield.  This  is  the  occasion  on  which,  as 
previously  stated,  I ordered  the  arrest  of  both  Sullivan  and  his  op- 
ponent. Until  lately  Sullivan  resided  in  Boston,  where  he  kept  a 
gorgeous  saloon  on  Washington  Street,  near  the  corner  of  Knee- 
land.  Recently,  however,  he  has  removed  to  this  city,  and  is  now 
in  partnership,  I believe,  with  Bennett,  the  proprietor  of  an  hotel 
on  the  corner  of  59th  Street  and  Seventh  Avenue.  Sullivan  is  not 
a brute  and  bully,  as  some  newspapers  would  have  the  public  be- 
lieve. For  my  part,  I have  always  found  him  gentlemanly  in  de- 
meanor ; and  when  complaints  have  been  made  concerning  his 
conduct,  they  have  been  found  to  be  more  the  outcomes  of  petty 
spite  than  anything  else.  “ Our  John,”  as  he  is  termed  in  Boston, 
does  not  like  to  be  imposed  upon  ; he  is  but  human,  and  has  doubt- 
less “ given  as  good  as  he  got.” 

But  to  turn  to  gaming.  Of  all  the  many  games  of  chance,  not  one 
is  played  so  extensively,  or  has  such  an  army  of  followers,  as  faro'. 
The  haunts  of  the  “ Tiger  ” are  dotted  all  over  the  city. 

For  me  to  say  that  nothing  has  been  done  by  the  proper  author- 
ities to  stamp  out  gambling  in  New  York  would  not  be  exactly 
true.  Still  it  would  not  be  so  very  far  from  the  truth.  Spas- 
modic efforts  are  made,  with  the  only  result  of  closing  up  the 
“hells”  fora  few  nights,  to  re-open  again  with  redoubled  bare- 
facedness. I well  remember  a somewhat  laughable  incident 
which  occurred  during  1856,  when  Fernando  Wood  was  mayor, 
in  connection  with  one  of  these  spasmodic  efforts  to  put  down 
gambling.  I was  captain  of  the  Eighteenth  Ward  at  the  time. 
“ Ede  ” Norris  and  his  brother  ran  a snug  little  place  on  the 
Bowery,  and  were  making  a large  amount  of  money.  They  had  a 
clever  corps  of  “ ropers  in  ” ; business  was  in  a flourishing  condition. 
Early  one  evening,  before  the  regular  night’s  game  had  begun,  two 
well  clad  men  strolled  into  their  place,  and  looked  round  in  a dis 
appointed  way,  as  if  they  wanted  to  find  something  and  didn’t 
like  to  ask  for  it.  “ Ede  ” jumped  to  the  conclusion  that  they  were 
countrymen  and  wanted  to  “ buck  agin  the  tiger.”  He  jumped 
up  from  the  chair  in  which  he  had  been  sitting,  removed  a cigar 
from  between  his  lips,  and  remarked  insinuatingly  : 

“ If  you  like,  gentlemen,  I’ll  open  the  game  for  you.” 


380 


“i’ll  close  it.” 

The  visitors  observed  that  they  didn’t  understand  anything 
about  gambling ; but  might  be  induced  to  try  their  hand  if  the 
thing  were  explained. 

“ Ede  ” withdrew  a cloth  from  a table  in  the  room  and  disclosed 
to  view  a faro  lay-out.  Then  he  explained  how  the  game  was  played, 
in  the  usual  manner.  A game  was  opened,  and  several  of  those 
present  joined  in  it.  Presently,  one  of  the  men  who  “ didn’t  un- 
derstand ” the  game  stepped  up  to  “ Ede  ” and  said  : 

“ Well,  Mr.  Norris,  since  you’ve  been  so  kind  as  to  open  the 
game,  I’ll  close  it.  Here’s  a Warrant  for  your  arrest.” 

The  two  visitors  were  myself  and  an  officer  named  Knapp. 

“ Ede  ” was  too  dumfounded  to  say  a word  at  first,  but  was 
much  incensed,  and  threatened  vengeance.  As  usual,  nothing 
came  of  his  threats.  His  brother  laughed  at  the  way  in  which  he 
had  been  caught. 

That  same  night  raids  were  made  upon  numerous  other  gambling 
resorts  in  the  city,  this  movement  on  the  part  of  the  police  having 
been  prompted  by  certain  suggestions  from  Mayor  Wood,  who 
took  this  method,  among  many  others,  of  improving  his  reputation 
among  certain  classes  in  the  community.  Whatever  may  have  been 
*its  effect  in  that  particular  direction,  it  certainly  did  not  put  a stop 
to  gambling.  For  a day  or  two  the  “tiger”  lay  quiescent  in  his 
lair,  but  was  soon  as  rapacious  and  savage  as  ever  in  entrapping 
and  destroying  his  victims. 

Practically  speaking,  the  superintendent  of  police  has  no  power 
whatever  to  suppress  gambling.  Be  he  ever  so  honest  or  deter- 
mined in  his  personal  efforts,  the  whole  matter  rests  solely  with 
the  captains  of  the  various  precincts.  The  entire  suppression  of 
gambling  in  all  its  forms,  both  public  and  private,  is  of  course  en- 
tirely out  of  the  question,  for  obvious  reasons.  But  make  the 
captains  directly  responsible  to  the  superintendent,  and  give 
them  to  understand  distinctly  that  they  will  be  dismissed  the 
force  unless  public  gambling-houses  are  closed  in  their  several 
districts,  and  the  nuisance  will  be  soon  abated.  It  is  within  the 
power  of  each  captain — and  I know  it  from  my  own  experience 
when  in  that  position — to  so  harass  the  proprietors  of  gambling- 
houses  that  it  will  not  pay  to  keep  such  places  open.  And  when 
the  investment  doesn’t  pay,  you  may  be  sure  the  business  will  be 
dropped  quickly. 

Granted  that  it  is  a difficult  thing  to  obtain  a conviction  in  such 


DIFFICULTY  OF  ENFORCING  THE  LAW.  38 1 

cases,  that  even  when  persons  who  have  been  swindled  at  “ skin  ” 
games  are  ready  to  come  forward  and  make  a complaint,  the  par- 
ties most  interested  get  hold  of  the  man  and  “ fix  ” things,  so 
that  the  case  never  comes  to  trial.  They  pay  him  back  his  money 
and  send  him  out  of  the  city ; and  further  still,  should  the  Grand 
Jury  indict  the  offending  party,  the  indictment  will  soon  be  covered 
with  dust  in  the  district  attorney’s  office,  unless  some  unusual 
pressure  from  the  outside  is  brought  to  bear  upon  that  department 
of  our  legal  machinery.  Granted  all  that,  and  much  more  besides. 


JIMMY  ELLIOTT. 
(From  a Photograph.) 


One  swallow  does  not  make  a summer,  neither  would  any  number 
of  convictions  for  gambling  show  a clean  bill  of  health  unless  the 
captains  exercised  their  full  powers  in  the  desired  direction. 

I remember  on  one  occasion,  shortly  after  my  appointment  as 
superintendent,  taking  vigorous  steps  to  shut  up  all  the  known 
gambling-houses  in  the  city.  Evidence — conclusive  evidence — 
was  secured  against  many  individuals  who  stood  high  in  the  com- 
munity, and  warrants  were  about  to  be  issued  for  their  arrest. 
But  there  was  a stumbling-block  in  the  way,  and  one  which  I 
could  not  surmount.  The  police  commissioners  stepped  forward 
and  passed  a resolution  prohibiting  me  from  taking  any  proceed- 


38  2 


GAMBLERS  IN  GENERAL. 


ings  against  gamblers  without  first  consulting  and  laying  the  whole 
evidence  before  them.  That  resolution  remained  on  the  books 
some  time,  and,  as  a natural  consequence,  the  proper  enforcement 
of  the  statute  was  rendered  almost  next  to  impossible. 

At  one  time,  in  1873,  however,  when  Mr.  Matsell  was  superin- 
tendent, the  commissioners  co-operated  with  him  most  cordially 
for  a short  period  in  the  suppression  of  gambling-houses,  showing 
that  such  a thing  is  possible.  One  member  of  the  board  had  a 
quarrel  with  the  famous  John  Morrissey,  and  it'  was  for  the  pur- 
pose of  “ getting  even  ” with  and  injuring  him,  more  than  any- 
thing else,  that  the  gambling-houses  were  closed  for  the  time  being.' 

If  you  gain  admittance  to  some  of  the  more  fashionable  gam- 
ing establishments  in  this  city,  many  of  those  whom  you  see 
there  would  not  care  to  have  the  fact  generally  known.  Gentle- 
men well  known  on  the  Stock  Exchange  and  in  public  life,  mer- 
chants of  high  standing,  and  whose  names  adorn  the  reports  of  our 
benevolent  and  charitable  organizations,  are  seen  in  these  places. 
To  one  not  accustomed  to  such  a sight  it  is  rather  startling  to 
see  men  occupying  prominent  positions  in  church  and  state 
seemingly  quite  at  home  at  their  seats  around  the  green  cloth-cov- 
ered table.  The  greatest  gamblers  of  all  are  those  who  in  the 
day  time  are*  accustomed  to  the  excitement  of  Wall  Street.  Most 
of  them  play  deeply  and  lose  heavily  of  course.  Merchants,  bank 
cashiers  and  clerks  often  play  until  they  lose  all,  then  pledge  their 
watches  and  jewellery,  their  salaries  even,  to  meet  their  “debts  of 
honor,”  as  they  are  termed.  Embezzlement,  forgery,  theft  fpllow 
as  an  inevitable  consequence.  Very  rarely  is  it  that  a gambler 
saves  any  money.  Generally  he  spends  it  in  the  same  reckless 
way  as  that  in  which  it  was  obtained.  Of  course,  there  are  some 
men  who  make  gambling  their  regular  business,  and  pursue  it  with 
the  same  amount  of  energy,  carefulness  and  system  as  a dry  goods 
merchant.  I know  of  one  such  who  resided  up  town  in  fine  style, 
and  was  reputed  to  be  worth  half  a million  dollars.  For  more 
than  thirty  years  he  has  gambled  steadily  and  persistently.  In 
every  other  way  he  is  a model  man,  attends  church  regularly  three 
times  every  Sunday,  does  not  use  liquor  or  tobacco  in  any  form. 
He  has  made  set  rules  for  his  guidance — loses  a certain  sum  and 
then  quits  playing  for  that  night,  but  continuing  as  long  as  he  wins 
or  breaks  the  bank.  He  has  been  successful,  but  thousands  of 


3^3 


• “ MATT.”  DANSER. 

others  who  have  tried  the  same  plan  have  been  hurried  to  nothing 
but  irretrievable  ruin. 

Policy  was  a generally  played  game  some  years  ago,  but  owing 
to  the  “ dead-set  ” made  against  it  by  authorities  it  has  now  gone 
out  of  fashion.  There  are  at  present  very  few  places,  in  fact, 
where  policy  is  played  openly.  Those  who  formerly  ran  a 
“shop” — generally  in  the  guise  of  a brokers  office,  cigar  store, 
coal  and  wood  agency,  etc. — are  now  compelled  to  walk  round  to 
thqir  customers,  “ backing  their  own  books,”  as  it  is  called.  The 
colored  population  is  not  by  any  means,  as  is  generally  supposed, 
the  chief  patrons  of  this  fascinating  game  of  chance.  Their  Cau- 
casian brethren  are  far  more  eager  in  their  quest  after  the  shadow 
of  the  “ almighty  dollar  ” in  this  way.  Keno,  too,  is  going  out  of 
date  and  is  rarely  heard  of  now.  Poker  is  a favorite  game,  and 
large  sums  are  lost  and  won  at  this  alluring  recreation  in  our  fash- 
ionable hotels,  clubs  and  private  residences. 

One  of  the  most  successful  gamblers  I have  met  was  Matthias 
Danser,  and  about  him  there  is  a somewhat  interesting  story. 
Danser  was  one  of  the  shrewdest  men  in  his  mode  of  living.  He 
was  after  the  “ main  chance  ” all  the  time.  Some  persons  have 
said  that  he  never  “ ran  a square  game,”  and  that  in  the  early 
days  of  the  war  he  thus  laid  the  foundations  of  a vast  fortune. 
He  had  establishments  in  various  parts  of  the  city,  at  one  time 
running  both  up  and  down-town  “ hells.”  His  last  venture  was 
at  No.  8 Barclay  Street.  Shortly  after  the  close  of  the  war  he  be- 
gan to  prepare  to  retire  from  business,  and  in  1872  he  ceased  to 
be  a director  of  the  Board  of  Green  Cloth.  He  was  then  worth 
anywhere  from  $700,000  to  $1,000,000.  In  justice  to  him,  how- 
ever, it  should  be  said  that  despite  the  way  in  which  he  made  his 
money  he  kept  his  family  aloof  from  his  transactions.  No  one 
could  be  more  devout  than  his  wife  and  daughter.  “ Matt  ” tried 
hard  to  “get  religion,”  but,  to  all  outward  appearances,  signally 
failed.  That  fact,  however,  did  not  interfere  with  the  piety  of  his 
family.  He  was  the  most  extraordinary  man  I ever  saw  in  re- 
spect to  facial  development.  A slight  stroke  of  paralysis  had  af- 
fected one  side  of  his  face,  so  as  to  draw  his  mouth  sideways  into 
a pucker ; and  when  he  talked  and  swore  it  was  hard  to  keep  one’s 
countenance  when  looking  him  in  the  eye.  “ Matt  ” was  not  only 
not  a miser,  but  he  was  careless  in  looking  after  the  securities  into 
which  he  had  turned  his  money.  In  a trunk  with  a lock  which 


3S4 


CUTTING  COUPONS  IN  A COAL-HOLE. 


could  have  been  forced  open  with  a tooth-pick,  and  in  a room 
which  was  never  secured,  in  his  house  at  No.  50  West  Eleventh 
Street,  he  kept  securities  and  bonds  worth  certainly  $400,000, 
and  possibly  a great  deal  more.  He  was  reckless,  too,  in  the 
choice  of  the  domestic  servants  of  his  establishment. 

In  April,  1875,  there  entered  his  sendee  a sly,  repulsive-looking 
woman — Mary  Logan.  I was  afterwards  told  that  Danser’s  es- 
tablishment had  been  “ surveyed  ” by  persons  intent  upon  getting 
a share  of  “ Matt’s  ” fortune,  and  that  Mary  was  “ planted”  in  the 
house  to  enable  them  to  attain  their  ends.  At  any  rate,  Mary  soon 
found  out  where  the  bonds  were  kept,  and  made  no  mistake  when 
she  saved  Mr.  Danser  the  trouble  of  cutting  off  the  coupons.  She 
did  this  by  the  light  of  a candle  in  the  coal  cellar.  When  she  had 
cut  off  coupons  representing  $21,640,  she  hid  about  $6000  of  them 
under  the  coal,  together  wTith  bonds  worth  $200,000.  The  other 
coupons  she  put  in  her  trunk.  On  or  about  May  26,  1875,  she  was 
suddenly  taken  ill,  went  to  St.  Luke’s  Hospital,  and  died  three 
days  afterwards.  Her  relatives — Michael  and  Ann  O’Farrell — 
came  in  suspicious  haste  to  Mr.  Danser  s to  claim  her  trunk,  which 
they  carried  aw^ay.  Mr.  Danser  did  not  miss  his  bonds  until 
nearly  a month  later.  He  took  the  affair  as  nonchalentlt  as  he 
did  the  “nipping”  of  a thousand-dollar  bill  from  his  fob  pocket 
by  a boot-black  in  Union  Square  shortly  before.  But  he  called 
upon  Sergeant  (nowr  Superintendent)  William  Murray,  who,  wdth 
Detective  (nowr  Detective-Sergeant)  Slevin,  became  very  much  in- 
terested in  the  search  for  the  missing  securities. 

A clew  to  the  robbery  w as  found  by  Mr.  Danser’s  cook,  who  in 
overhauling  the  cellar  unearthed  the  bonds  and  coupons.  Then 
Mary  Logan’s  antecedents  and  associations  were  looked  into,  and 
suspicion  fell  on  the  O’ Farrells.  They  were  not  discovered  for 
a long  time,  but  finally  Sergeant  Murray  located  them  up  town  on 
the  west  side.  They  wrere  running  a large  and  lucrative  clothing 
establishment,  employing  many  hands  and  a dozen  sewing-ma- 
chines. When  the  police  made  a descent  on  the  place,  husband 
and  wife  quibbled  about  their  connection  writh  Mary  Logan  and  the 
contents  of  her  trunk.  The  place  was  searched,  but  no  trace  of 
the  bonds  wTas  found  at  first. ' Sergeant  Murray  was  just  coming 
to  believe  O’Farrell’s  story — that  he  found  in  Mary’s  trunk  a lot  of 
little  pieces  of  paper  with  printing  on  them,  and  that  not  knowing 
that  they  wrere  of  value  he  had  burned  them — when  he  decided 


“ where’s  them  bonds  ? ” 


385 


to  make  a further  search,  and  under  the  plates  of  the  sewing-ma- 
chines he  discovered  seven  or  eight  thousand  dollars  worth  of  the 
coupons. 

Then  Mr.  O’Farrell  volunteered  the  statement  that  he  had  sent 
about  $3200  worth  to  Patrick  O’Farrell,  his  brother,  at  Lower 
Cragie  County,  Edinburgh,  Scotland.  Sergeant  Murray  took  upon 
himself  to  write  to  Patrick  in  Michael’s  name,  requesting  the  im- 
mediate return  of  the  coupons.  They  came  in  a letter  addressed 
to  “Michael  Reynolds,  care  of  D.  A.  Demey,  No.  749  Ninth  Ave- 
nue.” This  letter  was  impounded  at  the  Post-Office  through  the 
connivance  of  the  authorities.  The  O’Farrells,  husband  and  wife, 
were  tried  for  receiving  stolen  goods.  The  husband  alone  was 
convicted  (the  wife  pleaded  coverture),  and  he  was  sent  to  State’s 
prison  for  five  years. 

Before  this,  however,  the  Danser  establishment  had  another 
startling  experience.  On  the  12th  of  July,  1875,  Mr.  Danser  had 
business  down  town,  and  his  daughter  went  out  to  church,  leaving 
Mrs.  Ann  Louise  Danser  at  home.  This  was  in  the  morning. 
Shortly  after  Mr.  Danser  left  the  house,  three  spruce  young  men 
halted  in  front  of  the  house.  One  of  them  took  out  a note-book, 
scrutinized  the  house  carefully,  and  appeared  to  be  taking  volumi- 
nous memoranda.  Then  they  rang  the  bell  at  the  basement  door. 
Mrs.  Danser  responded,  and,  as  she  afterwards  said,  understood 
them  to  say  that  they  wanted  to  see  something  about  the  water. 
She  took  them  to  be  employees  of  the  Department  of  Public  Works, 
sanitary  officers  or  plumbers  sent  by  her  husband,  or  “ something 
of  that  sort.”  They  entered  the  house,  and  two  seconds  after  the 
door  was  closed  Mrs.  Danser  was  in  their  grasp.  They  conducted 
her  to  a rear  room  on  the  third  floor,  and  the  first  question  asked 
her  was  : 

“ Where’s  them  bonds  ? ” showing  a prior  knowledge  of  Mr. 
Danser’s  investments.  Mrs.  Danser  protested,  the  rascals  bullied 
and  cajoled  her,  demanded  her  keys,  and,  leaving  her  under  guard, 
went  down  stairs  and  admitted  confederates  to  the  number,  it  is 
thought,  of  three. 

Then  they  ransacked  the  house,  using,  among  other  tools,  a 
hatchet.  They  were  evidently  nervous  and  on  the  lookout  for  the 
return  of  Mr.  or  Miss  Danser,  or  calls  from  chance  visitors,  as  they 
did  their  work  bunglingly,  overlooking  much  property  of  value. 
At  length  they  found  a bundle  of  $40,000  worth  of  Virginia  City 
25 


386 


WHERE  THE  MONEY  WENT. 


bonds,  worth  in  the  market  $17,000,  and  a halt  was  called.  A 
consultation  was  held,  and  Mrs.  Danser  was  left,  bound,  in  the 
third-story  room,  awful  and  profane  threats  being  made  against 
her  if  she  attempted  to  regain  her  freedom  before  an  hour  had 
elapsed.  It  was  barely  twenty  minutes  after  they  left  the  house 
that  her  husband  returned  and  found  her  in  the  predicament  in 
which  she  had  been  left.  He  rushed  to  the  Mercer  Street  police 
station,  and  his  endeavors  to  make  himself  intelligible  are  spoken 
of  as  earnest  but  ludicrous  in  the  extreme,  by  reason  of  his 
infirmity.  The  police  did  much  to  try  and  bring  the  perpetrators 
of  the  robbery  to  justice.  I believe  that  the  job  was  arranged  by 
“Jim  ” Brady.  But  although  this  maybe  so,  no  one  was  convicted 
of  the  crime  and  only  one  arrest  was  made — that  of  a man  named 
Frank  Moss,  who  was  very  soon  released. 

These  adventures  so  affected  the  Dansers  that  Matthias  died  in 
August,  1876.  His  wife  followed  him  in  November,  and  Miss 
Danser,  who  was  engaged  to  be  married  to  one  of  the  telegraph 
operators  at  police  headquarters,  died  in  February,  1877,  leav- 
ing her  affianced  husband  $30,000.  The  bulk  of  Matthias  Danser’s 
fortune  went  into  the  coffers  of  various  religious  organizations,  so 
that  what  had  been  gained  through  the  instrumentality  of  the  devil 
went,  in  the  end,  to  the  service  of  God. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 


A GLIMPSE  OF  PRISONS. — A NIGHT  IN  A STATION-HOUSE  CELL. — 
SOBBING  BOYS  AND  CURSING  WOMEN. — SHRIEKS  OF  TERROR 
THROUGH  THE  CORRIDORS. — LUXURIOUS  LIVING  IN  LUDLOW 
STREET  JAIL. — WARD’S  DINNER-PARTIES. — BECKY  JONES’S  GOAT- 
RACE  WITH  JAMES  D.  FISH. LIFE  IN  THE  TOMBS. 

If  there  is  one  place  among  those  which  are  used  for  the  pur- 
pose of  confining  criminals  (or  alleged  criminals)  that  is  known  to 
a greater  number  of  persons  than  another,  it  is  the  station-house. 
This,  so  to  speak,  is  the  reception-room  before  reaching  the  inner 
office  of  punishment,  and  no  small  proportion  of  those  admitted 
here  get  no  farther.  Many  persons  are  continually  being  arrested 
on  suspicion,  and  are  perhaps  locked  up  over  night.  When 
brought  before  a police  justice  in  the  morning  they  are  discharged. 
Drunk  and  disorderly  persons,  as  well  as  those  who  are  more 
vicious,  find  their  first  halting- place  on  the  road  to  punishment  in 
the  station-house  cell.  Perhaps  this  place  of  confinement  sees,  on 
the  average,  a greater  number  of  prominent  prisoners  than  the 
Tombs  or  Ludlow  Street  Jail  or  Sing  Sing.  For  under  our  laws 
a policeman  can  arrest  a man  or  woman  on  suspicion,  and  this 
fact  accounts  for  many  an  innocent  and  respectable  person 
spending  a night  behind  prison  bars.  To  the  residents  of  any 
precinct  the  station-house  occupies  the  same  place  as  the  “coop,” 
“cooler,”  “jug,”  etc.,  do  to  the  inhabitants  of  a country  town. 
In  the  down-town  precincts  especially,  every  new  arrest  is  wit- 
nessed by  a crowd  of  youngsters,  and  frequently  by  children  of 
a larger  growth.  To  persons  of  delicate  sensibilities  or  of  pre- 
viously reputable  character,  whose  lot  it  is  to  be  brought  a prisoner 
to  the  station,  such  a reception  is  most  humiliating. 

When  a person  has  been  arrested,  either  on  suspicion  or  by  a 
warrant,  he  is  taken  at  once  to  the  station  house  in  the  precinct 
where  the  arrest  is  made.  A sergeant  sits  behind  a railing  and  a 
high  counter-like  desk,  and  as  the  policeman  enters  the  building 
and  walks  up  to  the  desk  the  sergeant  enters  the  name  of  the 

387 


388 


HORRIBLE  EXPERIENCES. 


prisoner,  together  with  the  charge  which  is  made  against  him. 
Sometimes  it  happens  that  the  prisoner  is  a man  of  wealth,  and 
then  frequently  he  gives  bonds  for  his  appearance  at  the  proper 
time  to  answer  to  the  charge. 

In  most  cases,  however,  the  prisoner  has  no  such  easy  fate. 
He  must  take  his  lot  as  it  comes,  and  usually  it  comes  very  hard. 
To  spend  a night  in  a station-house  cell  is  not  one  of  the  pleasant- 
est experiences  a man  can  have.  Of  course  the  class  of  perspns 
the  officers  have  to  deal  with  is  a low  and  vicious  one.  They  are 
often  brought  to  the  cells  in  a state  of  beastly  intoxication.  They 
shout  and  scream  and  curse  worse  than  any  furies  which  ever  ex- 
isted. All  this  perhaps  goes  through  the  mind  of  the  accused  as 
he  stands  before  the  sergeant. 

The  man  behind  the  desk  orders  the  policeman  who  has  brought 
the  prisoner  to  search  him  thoroughly,  and,  feeling  more  and  more 
like  a criminal,  the  accused  submits  to  have  his  valuables  taken 
from  his  pockets.  Then  the  sergeant  taps  a bell,  and  at  the  sum- 
mons a doorman  appears. 

‘‘Show  this  man  to  No. — ” is  the  next  remark  of  the  ser- 
geant, and  the  prisoner  is  led  away  to  make  his  bed  on  a hard 
board  and  in  a loathsome  cell.  His  night,  it  is  safe  to  predict,  is 
not  a restful  one.  In  the  first  place,  the  thought  of  the  cell  itself 
is  repulsive,  and  its  suggestions  of  filth  are  nauseating.  The  room 
is  cramped  and  the  air  foul.  The  occupant  cannot  get  a comfort- 
able position,  and  his  limbs  become  lame  and  paralyzed.  He  tries 
to  sleep  ; the  trial  is  a failure.  Perhaps  in  an  adjoining  cell  a 
howling  Jezebel  has  been  placed  for  the  night.  She  is  mad  with 
liquor,  and  raves  and  swears  in  a horrible  manner.  Then  one  of 
the  keepers  comes  to  quiet  her.  His  admonitions  are  of  no  avaib 
and  he  enters  the  cell  to  carry  out  his  orders  with  force.  The 
woman  strikes  him,  and  there  follows  a tussle  in  which  the  screams 
and  oaths  become  tenfold  more  terrible.  For  a while,  perhaps, 
the  creature  is  quieted,  and  then  spasmodically  during  the  night 
her  paroxysms  of  madness  break  forth  again. 

In  another  cell  near  by  there  may  have  been  a woman  of  a dif- 
ferent stamp — a tender,  refined,  intelligent  woman,  whose  weak-, 
ness  has  caused  her  to  commit  the  sin  with  which  she  is  charged. 
She  appreciates  the  enormity  of  her  offence ; at  least  whatever  its 
magnitude  is  it  seems  great  to  her.  This  is  the  first  time  she  ever 
was  in  a prison  cell.  The  disgrace  is  terrible.  She  moans  and 


LUDLOW  STREET  JAIL.  389 

groans  in  her  grief,  and  sobs  as  if  her  heart  was  breaking.  Now 
and  then  can  be  heard  her  tearful  words  of  prayer. 

“ O,  why  did  I do  it  ? ” she  cries  out  in  tones  of  anguish,  and 
there  is  no  one  to  answer  the  question  or  to  comfort  the  grief- 
stricken  one. 

In  another  cell  is  an  old  man.  He,  too,  is  half  maniacal 
through  the  constant  habit  of  drinking.  He  has  been  brought  in 
stupidly  drunk,  but  after  awhile  his  stupidity  gives  way  to  howls 
and  ravings  which  are  fearful  to  hear — they  must  be  awful  to 
behold.  He  has  delirium  tremens,  and  the  strange  creatures  of 
his  vision  which  haunt  his  cell  frighten  him  and  make  him  shriek 
in  supposed  agony  and  in  real  terror. 

Near  by,  again,  is  a sobbing  boy.  This  is  his  first  night  in  a 
station-house  cell,  too,  and  thoughts  of  the  disgrace  and  anxiety 
he  has  brought  on  his  mother  are  enough  almost  to  distract  him. 
But  the  boy’s  nature  causes  him  to  weary  of  his  grief  after  awhile, 
and  he  sobs  off  to  sleep  to  dream  about  his  sorrows,  not  to  taste 
them  in  their  reality. 

Such  sounds  as  these  come  to  the  man  whom  we  have  con- 
signed to  a cell.  The  tales  they  tell  or  suggest  of  human  woe 
and  misery  are  heart-rending.  How  gladly  would  he  drop  off  to 
sleep  and  forget  these  dismal  reminders  of  evil.  But,  no ; that  is 
impossible.  The  night  grows  into  weeks,  apparently.  Now  and 
then  the  iron  gates  clank,  and  a fresh  victim  has  been  brought  to 
satisfy  that  grim,  stern  avenger  whom  we  call  Justice.  Worn  out, 
pale  and  haggard,  the  prisoner  thanks  God  when  he  sees  the  first 
glimmer  of  daylight  which  reaches  the  interior  of  his  cell,  and 
when,  some  hours  later,  he  is  brought  forth  and  taken  before  a 
police  justice,  the  outside  air,  and  even  the  police  court,  seem  the 
most  like  paradise  of  anything  he  has  ever  seen. 

It  is  said  that  William  M.  Tweed  was  the  contractor  of  Lud- 
low Street  Jail,  in  which  he  died.  If  so,  he  showed  again  the 
trait  of  character  for  which,  with  all  his  faults,  he  was  famous. 
It  does  not  look  much  like  a jail,  and  in  this  respect  was  fortunately 
planned.  It  is  situated  on  Ludlow  Street,  just  north  of  Grand. 
Essex  Market  is  beyond.  The  building  is  of  red  brick,  and  the 
main  entrance  is  on  Ludlow  Street.  The  structure  has  about 
100  feet  frontage.  It  has  the  appearance  of  a library  from  the 
outside.  The  windows  especially  give  it  that  look.  In  the  north- 
east corner  of  the  building  is  a large  prison-yard,  well  guarded  by 


390  “ PAYING  ” BOARDERS. 

lofty  brick  walls.  The  jail  had  previously  been  used  as  a place 
for  the  temporary  confinement  of  United  States’  prisoners  and  for 
debtors.  The  prison  was  built  about  thirty  years  ago,  and  it  is 
estimated  that  no  less  than  40,000  prisoners  have  been  confined 
there  since  its  erection.  About  half  this  number  were  residents 
of  New  York  previous  to  their  incarceration.  The  jail  has  held 
many  prominent  rascals.  It  was  here  that  Tweed  was  kept,  and 
in  recent  times  James  D.  Fish  and  Ferdinand  Ward.  Red  Leary 
made  his  famous  escape  from  Ludlow  Street  Jail,  and  around  its 
walks  cluster  many  of  the  traditions  connected  with  prison  scenes 
and  prominent  prisoners. 

In  order  that  the  reader  may  understand  just  what  confinement 
in  Ludlow  Street  Jail  means,  let  us  suppose  the  case  of  a man 
who  has  been  arrested  for  attempting  to  defraud,  or  something 
similar,  and  after  having  been  brought  before  the  court  is  reman- 
ded without  bail  to  the  jail.  As  he  enters  the  iron  gate  at  the 
main  entrance  the  deputy  sheriff  who  has  brought  him  hands  him 
over  to  the  warden’s  care,  who  makes  a record  of  his  coming,  and 
speedily  finds  out  whether  the  prisoner  wants  to  become  a 
“ boarder,”  or  to  remain  a common  felon.  For  there  are  two 
distinct  castes  in  Ludlow  Street  Jail,  of  which  the  public  generally 
hears  of  but  one — and  that  the  higher  one.  These  two  castes  may 
be  named  the  “paying”  boarders,  and  the  “non-paying  boarders.” 
The  former  class  are  the  aristocrats  of  the  jail.  They  pay  the 
warden  fifteen  dollars  a week  for  the  privilege  of  sitting  at  his  table 
and  eating  the  luxuries  of  the  market.  This  sum  includes  also  a 
respectable  room,  not  cell,  and  fair  attendance.  Except  for  the 
restraint  of  confinement  the  paying  boarder’s  life  in  Ludlow  Street 
Jail  is  not  such  an  unhappy  one  as  most  persons  think.  There  are 
sometimes  prisoners  who  are  even  more  aristocratic  than  the  pay- 
ing boarder,  but  these  are  rare — they  do  not  appear  in  the  jail 
very  often.  When  they  do,  they  get  a nicely  furnished  room  with 
all  the  luxuries,  have  their  meals  served  in  their  rooms  and  live  in 
royal  style.  For  this  privilege,  however,  they  have  to  pay  from  $50 
to  $100  a week.  Of  course  the  warden  is  glad  to  see  such  pris- 
oners, and  you  may  be  sure  he  tries  to  keep  them  as  long  as  pos- 
sible. 

Tweed  belonged  to  the  paying  class  of  boarders,  as  did  also 
Becky  Jones,  and  Ward,  and  Fish.  It  used  to  be  said  of  Ward  and 
Fish  that  they  frequently  met  in  the  jail  corridors,  but  “ never 


LUXURIOUS  DINNER  PARTIES. 


39 


spoke  as  they  passed  by.”  Becky  Jones  was  continually  protest- 
ing that  the  only  reason  for  her  continued  incarceration  was  the 
warden’s  wish  to  make  as  much  money  out  of  her  as  possible. 
And  in  spite  of  the  $15  a week  which  Becky  paid,  she  did  not  get 
a very  good  room.  It  was  small  and  cramped,  but  she  kept  it 
neat  and  in  first-class  order.  She  had  a way  of  collecting  pictures, 
advertising  cards  and  other  cheap  articles  of  decoration,  and  one 
side  of  her  room  was  literally  covered  with  them.  I always 
thought  Becky  was  considerably  “off”  in  the  upper  story,  and  I 
remember  well  peculiar  stories  she  used  to  tell ; for  she  was  a vol- 
uminous talker.  Once  she  told  a visitor  that  she  had  spent  the 
morning  in  having  a goat-race  in  the  court-yard  with  James  D. 
Fish.  The  gray- haired  ex-president  of  the  Marine  Bank  had 
mounted  one  goat,  she  said,  and  she  had  mounted  another,  and  the 
two  had  a mad  race  around  the  court.  She  came  out  ahead,  I 
believe. 

When  Tweed  was  a paying  boarder  in  the  jail  many  stories 
used  to  be  told  of  the  luxurious  way  in  which  he  lived,  and  I have 
no  doubt  they  were  true.  The  same  was  true  of  Ward.  He  used 
to  have  cases  of  champagne  and  wine  in  his  room,  and  cigars 
almost  by  the  wholesale.  Occasionally  he  would  give  dinner-par- 
ties, at  which  several  of  the  old  friends  of  his  better  days  would 
be  present.  On  such  occasions  as  these  Ward  would  lay  himself 
out.  He  would  order  the  choicest  courses  of  food  and  the  best 
china,  and  an  extra  supply  of  wines.  At  each  of  the  ladies’  plates 
he  would  have  placed  an  expensive  boutonnaire.  Ward  was  an 
omnivorous  reader,  and  most  of  his  time  in  jail  was  taken  up  in 
smoking  or  reading  the  newspapers.  Perhaps  those  who  are  at  a 
loss  to  account  for  some  of  the  missing  funds  of  the  Marine  Bank 
might  trace  them  to  the  merchants  who  furnished  Ward  with  his 
luxurious  supplies. 

But  to  go  back  to  our  prisoner  whom  we  left  before  the  warden 
waiting  to  say  whether  he  wished  to  be  a pay-boarder  or  not.  The 
prisoner  did  not  hesitate  half  as  long  as  it  has  taken  me  to  write 
this  parenthesis,  for  circumstances  prevented  him  from  being  able 
to  live  luxuriously,  and  he  had  to  be  satisfied  with  the  lot  of  the 
common  prisoner.  He  was  sent  up  to  a cell  near  the  roof.  Ver- 
min were  plainly  visible  on  the  floor,  and  his  quarters  were  scant 
and  uncomfortable.  He  wished  he  had  money  enough  to  be  a 
pay-boarder,  but  there  is  no  chance  of  his  getting  it.  He  lies 


3 92 


DAILY  ROUTINE. 


down  and  tries  to  rest,  but  it  takes  weeks  sometimes  to  learn  to 
rest  in  these  places.  His  daily  life  is  a constant  aggravation, 
because  in  the  court-yard  and  jail  corridors  he  is  brought  into  con 
tact  with  the  “ high-toned  ” prisoners,  and  feels  the  sting  of  the 
difference  in  his  position  continually. 

He  is  locked  up  in  his  cell  from  7.30  o’clock  at  night  until  6.30 
in  the  morning.  At  this  hour  he  arises  and  puts  on  his  clothes. 
Then,  according  to  the  prison  rules,  he  takes  up  his  slop-pail  and 
carries  it  down  to  the  sink,  where  he  cleanses  it.  His  own  ablu- 
tions are  performed  here  too,  and  then  he  goes  back  to  the  cell, 
makes  up  his  bed,  cleans  his  room,  and  then  waits  for  breakfast. 
Breakfast  is  a novel  meal  in  Ludlow  Street  Jail.  It  comes  to  the 
prisoners ; they  do  not  go  to  it.  They  stand,  the  non-paying 
boarders  of  course,  each  at  their  cell  doors,  and  await  the  carriers 
of  food.  These  are  two  prisoners  who,  in  consideration  of  their 
work  about  the  jail,  are  allowed  to  remain  up  until  10.30  o’clock 
at  night.  The  first  carries  a large  basket  of  bread  cut  into  good- 
sized  hunks.  As  he  passes  each  cell  the  man  at  the  door  reaches 
for  the  biggest  piece  he  can  find,  and  the  carrier  goes  on  to  the 
next  cell.  After  the  bread-man  comes  one  with  a tin  boiler  filled 
with  coffee  and  tin  cups.  He  gives  one  cupful  to  each  prisoner, 
and  this  completes  the  breakfast.  After  breakfast  the  prisoner 
can  go  down  into  the  court-yard  or  walk  through  the  corridors. 
Dinner  is  served  at  12  o’clock,  and  consists  of  bread  and  a soup 
in  which  scraps  of  meat  and  vegetables  are  mixed  more  according 
to  quantity  than  to  the  taste  of  the  compound.  On  Thursdays, 
Fridays  and  Sundays  the  dinner  menu  is  changed.  Fish  and  a 
potato  are  given  on  Fridays ; and  on  the  other  two  days  corned 
beef  and  a boiled  potato  are  each  man’s  allowance. 

Supper  comes  at  six  o’clock,  and  again  the  prisoners  stand  in 
front  of  the  cell  doors  and  receive  their  portion.  This  time  it  con- 
sists of  a tin  cup  of  tea  and  a piece  of  bread.  No  knives  or  forks 
are  furnished,  and  no  spoons,  save  for  dinner,  when  soup  is  fur- 
nished. 

To  a non-paying  boarder  life  in  Ludlow  Street  Jail,  as  in  fact  in 
any  of  our  prisons,  is  a constant  tax  on  the  strength  and  health. 
The  food  which  is  provided  is  not  nourishing  particularly,  and  this, 
taken  in  connection  with  the  dampness  of  the  walls,  the  impure 
air,  and  the  fact  of  his  imprisonment  constantly  preying  upon  one’s 
mind,  it  is  not  strange  that  men  come  out  of  jail  shattered  com* 


THE  TOMBS. 


393 


pletely  in  constitution.  This  is  all  the  more  lamentable  in  the 
case  of  prisoners  in  Ludlow  Street  Jail,  for  frequently  they  have 
been  confined  for  years  for  nothing  more  than  the  non-payment  of 
a debt.  It  is  a glorious  thing  for  our  State  that  the  poor-debtor 
law  has  been  recently  passed.  This  has  been  veritably  a loosen- 
ing of  the  shackles  to  many  an  unfortunate. 

To  the  average  person  I know  of  no  place  of  imprisonment,  out- 


THE  TOMBS— EXTERIOR. 


side  of  State  institutions,  which  holds  greater  horrors  than  the  city 
prison,  ordinarily  called  the  Tombs.  It  may  not  be  known  to 
everybody  that  the  building  in  its  general  architectural  design  was 
planned  after  an  Egyptian  tomb,  but  such  nevertheless  is  the  fact. 
Certainly  the  structure  is  well-named.  I never  go  past  it  but  I am 
struck  with  its  gloom  and  its  prison-like  aspect.  Unfortunate  it  is 
that  the  Tombs  prison  was  built  where  it  is.  This  region  was  all  Ta 
pond  and  marsh  once,  and  when  it  was  proposed  to  build  a struct- 
ure like  this  there,  it  was  found  necessary  to  sink  many  piles  and 
heavy  stones  upon  which  to  erect  so  heavy  an  edifice.  From  time 
since  the  prison  was  built  there  have  been  evidences  of  a sinking 
in  the  foundations.  Large  cracks  have  appeared  in  the  walls,  and 
it  would  not  surprise  me  very  much  if  some  time  these  massive 
walls  should  crush  beneath  them  the  hundreds  of  inmates  confined 
by  iron  bars.  Aside  from  this  danger,  however,  is  that  of  sickness 
and  disease.  Many  complaints  have  been  made  from  time  to  time 


394 


ITS  CONSTRUCTION. 


regarding  the  sanitary  condition  of  the  prison,  and  despite  the 
efforts  of  the  keepers  to  keep  things  cleanly,  the  natural  situation 
of  the  place  will  always  work  against  them.  It  will  require  almost 
a superhuman  effort  to  destroy  the  germs  of  disease  which  I feel 
sure  must  all  the  time  be  breeding  in  this  malarial  atmosphere.  ' 


THE  TOMBS— COURTYARD. 


The  Tombs  prison  was  completed  and  ready  for  use  in  the  year 
1838.  There  are  200  cells  in  the  building;  but  even  this  number 
has  not  always  proved  sufficient,  and  it  has  been  necessary  to  put 
two  and  even  three  prisoners  in  a cell.  The  female  portion  of  the 
prison  is  separated  from  the  male,  and  contains  about  150  cells 
arranged  in  tiers.  The  officers  of  the  Tombs  are  appointed  by 
the  Commissioner  of  Charities  and  Corrections,  and  consist  of  a 


THE  TOMBS  — INTERIOR. 


395 


396 


“ COME  ALONG  ! ” 


warden,  two  deputies,  a physician,  record  clerk,  steward,  eleven 
keepers,  matron  and  two  deputy  matrons. 

As  in  the  case  of  the  other  places  for  the  confinement  of  viola- 
tors of  the  law  which  I have  mentioned,  the  reader  will  be  able  to 
see  more  vividly  the  inside  life  of  the  Tombs  by  the  suppositious  con- 
finement of  a criminal  than  by  the  mere  description  of  what  goes 
on.  Suppose,  then,  that  we  take  the  case  of  one  of  the  disorderly 
or  vagrant  class  that  daily  appears  in  the  Tombs  police  court. 


BLACKWELL’S  ISLAND. 


He  steps  before  the  bar  and  the  police  justice  hears  the  charge 
preferred  against  him,  hears  his  statement  of  the  facts,  and  then, 
as  if  this  mortal  was  only  one  out  of  10,000,  in  a cold  and  busi- 
ness-like manner  consigns  him  to  spend  a term  in  the  Tombs.  An 
officer  in  the  court-room  gruffly  says  : “ Come  along,”  and  without 
remonstrance,  and  pondering  over  his  sentence,  the  new  candidate 
for  prison  discipline  meekly  follows  his  blue-coated  attendant. 
They  pass  through  that  awful  smelling  court-room  amid  the  dull 
and  brutish  stare  of  the  assembled  scum  of  the  lower  city7,  wards, 
through  one  or  two  corridors  and  into  the  prison.  Here  they  pass 
a keeper,  who,  seeing  the  officer  in  charge  of  the  prisoner  and  his 
commitment  papers,  allows  them  to  pass.  They  go  through  two 
or  three  more  iron  doors  into  the  open  area  in  the  centre  of  the 
building,  across  this  into  another  section  of  the  prison.  Another 


LOCKED  IN. 


397 


keeper  unlocks  the  door  for  them,  and  with  scarcely  a word  they 
approach  the  desk  of  the  clerk.  As  the  prisoner  stands  here, 
waiting  for  the  clerk  to  get  his  books  ready,  he  has  a chance  to 
look  about  and  get  a bird’s-eye  view  of  where  he  is  to  live  for 
some  time.  It  is  not  an  encouraging  view.  The  floor  on  which  he 
is  standing  is  merely  a narrow  hallway,  perhaps  six  feet  wide. 
On  either  side  rise  high  walls,  with  glimmerings  of  light  streaming 
down  from  the  windows  at  the  two  extremities  of  the  corridor. 
Narrow  balconies  at  inter- 
vals are  built  out  from 
these  walls,  and  denote  the 
different  tiers  of  cells. 

There  is  one  tier  on  the 
same  floor  that  the  prisoner 
is  standing  on,  and  by  peep- 
ing through  the  narrow 
grating  he  gets  a glimpse 
of  the  kind  of  room  in 
which  he  is  to  be  confined. 

Finally  the  clerk  at  the 
desk  is  ready. 

“ Name  ? ” he  asks,  with- 
out looking  up. 

“John  Blank,”  is  the  response.  Then  follow  in  rapid  order 
inquiries  as  to  age,  marriage,  residence,  occupation  and  so  forth. 
A turnkey  now  steps  forward  and  leads  away  the  prisoner  to  his 
cell.  He  unlocks  the  two  iron  doors  and  puts  the  occupant  in. 
Then  he  slams  the  doors,  locks  them,  and  the  prisoner  is  left  to 
get  acquainted  with  his  new  quarters. 

The  cell  is  narrow  and  small,  but  is  rather  better,  on  the  whole, 
than  one  would  think  from  looking  at  the  entrance.  The  floor  is 
of  cement,  and  gets  damp  and  cold.  There  is  a hard,  uncomforta- 
ble iron  bed,  one  or  two  necessary  articles  of  furniture ; and  these 
are  all.  Here,  as  in  Ludlow  Street  Jail,  if  one  wants  luxuries  he 
has  to  pay  for  them,  and  the  messengers  are  said  to  make  a very 
good  thing  of  it.  They  offer  to  get  cigars,  tobacco,  fruit,  etc.,  for 
them  and  charge  them  double  prices.  The  prisoners  cannot  rebel, 
and  their  persecutors  have  absolute  power. 

Bread  and  tea  formed  the  diet  which  our  prisoners  got  at  sup- 
per time.  The  tea  was  served  in  large  tin  basins,  and  a quart  cup- 


3 98 


THE  BILL  OF  FARE. 


ful  was  allowed  to  the  prisoner.  Besides  this  he  was  given  a 
hunk  of  bread.  These  he  took  into  his  cell  and  consumed  them 
at  his  leisure.  At  breakfast  time  there  are  bread  and  hot  rye  cof- 
fee passed  around,  and  at  dinner  time  a bowl  of  vegetable-and- 
meat  soup.  During  the  day  the  prisoner  was  allowed  to  get  out 
in  the  corridor  for  exercise. 

This  dull  monotony  of  existence  continues  until  the  prisoner’s 
term  expires.  Occasionally  he  sees  visitors,  who  are  allowed  to  talk 
to  him  at  the  cell  door.  Perhaps  he  is  confined  in  the  Tombs 
only  temporarily  before  being  conveyed  to  Blackwell’s  Island. 
When  his  time  comes  to  start  he  is  hustled  out  with  a dozen  or 
more  other  prisoners,  all  of  whom  are  packed  into  the  “ Black 
Maria”  and  driven  rapidly  over  the  pavements  toward  Blackwell’s 
Island. 

In  the  Tombs,  of  course,  different  rows  of  cells  are  assigned  to 
different  grades  of  prisoners.  The  tier  on  the  ground  floor  is  used 
for  lunatics,  delirium  tremens  cases,  and  for  sentenced  prisoners. 
Muderers’  Row  is  on  the  second  tier,  and  burglars,  highway  rob- 
bers and  other  desperate  criminals  are  confined  here.  The  third 
tier  is  occupied  by  prisoners  arrested  for  grand  larceny,  and  the 
fourth  for  minor  misdemeanors. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 


MURDERS  AND  MURDERERS— THE  BLOODY  AFFRAY  IN  “ SHANG  ” DRA 
PER’S  SALOON. — RUNNING  INTO  THE.  ARMS  OF  A DETECTIVE. — 
PROSTRATE  ON  THE  FLOOR  IN  A POOL  OF  BLOOD. — THE  SNOW 
ON  TWELFTH  STREET  DEFILED  WITH  GORE. — THE  SKELETON 

IN  THE  CELLAR. KNOCKED  DOWN  AND  KILLED  AT  EARLY 

DAWN. — THE  MURDERER  OF  MRS.  HULL  CAUGHT  BY  A RE- 
PORTER. 

The  moon  shone  bright  on  the  night  of  October  16,  1883. 
The  clock  lacked  fifteen  minutes  of  two.  The  outside  door  of 
“ Shang”  Draper’s  saloon  on  Sixth  Avenue  between  Twenty-ninth 
and  Thirtieth  streets  was  locked  and  the  curtains  were  closely 
drawn.  Inside,  the  lights  had  not  been  all  turned  down,  for  there 
were  customers  still  in  the  room.  Four  men  stood  before  the  bar. 
One  was  John  Walsh,  a bank  burglar,  called  by  his  friends  “ John- 
nie the  Mick.”  Another  was  William  Vosburgh,  a notorious  sneak 
thief.  Pat  Leary  and  Michael  Fay,  associates  of  criminals,  were 
the  other  two.  Behind  the  bar,  mixing  drinks,  was  Harry  Hope, 
a son  of  Jimmy  Hope,  a bank  burglar  of  no  small  reputation.  The 
four  men  had  raised  their  glasses  to  their  lips. 

Suddenly  the  side  door  creaked  on  its  hinge.  The  men  with  the 
glasses  in  their  hands  glanced  carelessly  towards  the  aperture. 
A man’s  face  and  part  of  his  figure  were  there.  It  was  the  face  of 
John  Irving,  himself  a famous  bank  burglar,  and  the  leader  of  a 
gang  hostile  to  that  in  which  “Johnnie  the  Mick  ” was  chief. 
At  the  sight  of  him  the  men  at  the  bar  put  down  their  glasses,  and 
one  of  them  reached  almost  unconsciously  for  his  revolver  in  his 
hip-pocket.  It  was  too  late.  Irving  had  cocked  and  aimed  his 
weapon.  The  trigger  snapped  and  the  ball  flew  through  the  lap- 
pel  of  Walsh’s  coat. 

Behind  the  bar-room  was  a billiard-room,  and  into  this  Irving 
ran  as  soon  as  he  had  fired.  Walsh  dashed  after  him,  discharging 
three  cartridges  from  his  revolver  as  he  ran.  One  of  the  bullets 
pierced  Irving’s  heart  and  he  fell  dead.  Then  appeared  on  the 

399 


400 


A SORRY  SPECTACLE. 


scene  his  life-long  friend  and  avenger,  Billy  Porter.  Like  a 
Nemesis  he  swooped  down  upon  his  friend’s  murderer  and  sent  a hot 
piece  of  lead  whistling  through  his  head.  Then  he  broke  for  the 
door  of  the  saloon,  reached  the  street,  and  started  to  flee,  only  to 
fall  into  the  hands  of  Detective  Sergeant  Hickey,  who  had  been 
attracted  by  the  firing. 

In  a few  seconds  the  saloon  was  surrounded  by  Captain  Williams 
and  policemen  McCool,  Price,  Gallagher  and  Fay.  Near  them 


stood  “ Shang  ” Draper  and  “ Red  ” Leary,  the  heroes  of  many 
deeds  of  infamy,  who  had  been  eating  oysters  in  the  adjoining 
saloon.  The  men  waited  a moment  to  see  that  no  one  broke  away 
from  the  saloon,  and  then  entered.  A sorry  spectacle  it  was  that 
met  their  gaze.  Irving  lay  stone  dead,  with  his  feet  toward  the 
centre  of  the  room.  A 38-calibre  revolver  with  five  chambers,  two 
of  which  were  empty,  lay  beside  him.  Ten  feet  away,  doubled  up 
in  a corner,  was  “Johnnie  the  Mick,”  who  was  just  alive.  Vos- 
burgh,  Pat  Leary  and  Michael  Fay  were  vainly  trying  to  restore 
him  to  life. 


THIEVES  FALL  OUT. 


401 


A solemn  procession  it  was  that  fifteen  minutes  later  wended  its 
way  toward  the  Thirtieth  Street  Station-house.  A wagon  carried 
the  bodies  of  Irving  and  Walsh,  and  on  the  sidewalk,  in  a mournful, 
silent  group,  walked  Captain  Williams,  the  policemen,  and  as  many 
of  that  band  of  criminals  and  ex-convicts  as  were  left  alive.  Por- 
ter had  preceded  them  to  the  station-house.  The  moon  shone 
down  as  brightly  as  ever  and  threw  the  shadow  of  the  passing 
men  on  the  flag-stones. 


CAPTAIN  ALEX.  S.  WILLIAMS,  TWENTY-NINTH  PRECINCT. 
(From  a Photograph.) 


For  a long  time  there  had  been  bad  blood  between  Walsh  and 
Irving.  They  had  been  engaged  in  the  same  burglaries  and  had 
quarrelled  over  the  division  of  the  spoils.  Both  were  supposed  to 
have  been  mixed  up  in  the  murder  of  George  Leonidas  Leslie, 
and  Irving  thought  that  Walsh  knew  too  much  about  the  affair. 
Porter  had  assisted  Irving  to  escape  from  Raymond  Street  Jail  in 
Brooklyn,  and  they  were  warm  friends. 

Although  Porter  was  arrested  he  managed  in  some  way  to  escape 
26 


40  2 THE  ELUE- BORDERED  HANDKERCHIEF. 

conviction.  He  is  still  alive  and  at  large.  Only  as  this  is  written 
he  is  reported  in  the  newspapers  as  having  arrived  in  New  York 
again,  after  having  been  let  out  of  prison  in  Troy,  where  he  was 
held  for  the  jewellery  robbery  at  the  store  of  Marks  & Son,  by 
procuring  a bail-bond  for  $20,000. 

On  a Sunday  morning  in  August,  1875,  a woman  who  lived  on 
Greenwich  Street  heard  groans  coming  from  an  unfinished  house 
at  No.  275.  At  first  she  paid  no  attention  to  the  sounds.  But  as 
they  increased  in  volume  and  number  she  became  startled  and  in- 
stituted a search.  On  the  first  floor  of  the  new  building  lay  a man, 
weltering  in  his  own  blood.  There  was  a terrible  gash  in  his  head, 
out  of  which  flowed  blood  and  brain.  Spasmodic  gasps  showed 
that  the  man  was  still  alive.  Those  that  found  him  recognized 
him  as  James  H.  Noe.  an  elderly  gentleman  of  fortune,  and  the 
owner  of  the  building  in  which  he  was  discovered.  It  had  been 
his  custom  to  walk  over  to  where  the  work  was  going  on  every 
Sunday  morning,  to  see  what  progress  had  been  made  during  the 
week. 

The  old  man  rallied  for  a few  minutes  w'hile  he  told  the  story  of 
the  assault  which  had  been  made  upon  him.  “ I went  up  on  the 
roof,”  he  said,  between  his  struggles  for  breath,  “ and  found  a 
man  there  tearing  up  the  lead.  I never  had  seen  the  man  before. 
I caught  hold  of  him  and  marched  him  down  stairs.  Right  here 
where  1 lie  he  picked  up  a bar  of  iron  and  hit  me.  The  next  I 
remember  he  had  tied  a handkerchief  over  m.y  mouth  and  was 
searching  my  pockets.  I attempted  to  resist,  but  he  told  me  if  I 
made  any  noise  he  would  come  back  and  finish  me.” 

With  this  much  said  Mr.  Noe  became  unconscious  again. 
He  was  removed  to  Chambers  Street  Hospital,  where  he  died  with- 
in a week,  never  having  regained  his  consciousness. 

The  case  went  into  my  hands.  I put  upon  it  Detective  Dorcey, 
who,  after  making  a thorough  examination  of  the  premises,  found 
several  clews  which  he  thought  might  lead  to  finding  the.  murderer. 
One  of  these  was  the  handkerchief  which  he  had  tied  around  Mr. 
Noe’s  face.  It  had  a blue  border  and  was  saturated  with  blood. 
Mr.  Noe’s  gold  watch  and  chain,  which  had  been  purchased  a few 
days  previously,  had  been  taken  awaf  by  his  assailant.  Strangely, 
too,  the  murderer  had  broken  his  victim’s  cane  in  two  and  carried 
away  the  top  piece,  attached  to  which  was  a metal  handle  in  the 
shape  of  a monkey.  A description  of  the  watch  was  obtained 


403 


404 


A TERRIBLE  STRUGGLE. 


from  the  maker,  a man  named  Welch,  and  Dorcey  searched  a great 
many  pawnshops,  but  without  finding  what  he  wanted.  One  day, 
however,  the  proprietor  of  a small  loan  office  on  Chatham  Street 
brought  me  a watch  which  he  thought  answered  the  description  of 
the  one  taken  from  Mr.  Noe.  Sure  enough  it  did,  in  every  respect 
but  the  number.  Mr.  Welch,  the  maker,  called  with  the  informa- 
tion that  he  had  inadvertently  given  me  the  wrong  number.  Plac- 
ing the  watch  which  I had  received  before  him,  he  declared  it  was 
the  one  he  had  made  for  Mr.  Noe. 

A few  days  subsequent  to  this  it  was  found  that  a cane  with  a 
monkey’s  head  in  metal  for  a handle  had  been  seen  in  the  pos- 
session of  James  Dolan,  a well-known  “tough,”  by  Hendricks, 
who  kept  a coffee-and-cake  saloon  on  Chatham  Street.  The  blue- 
bordered  handkerchief,  too,  was  identified  as  belonging  to  Dolan  by 
two  girls  of  the  town  with  whom  he  was  on  intimate  terms. 
Dolan  was  arrested,  and  on  his  trial  was  fully  identified  as  having 
pawned  the  watch.  He  was  convicted  of  the  crime  and  suffered 
the  extreme  penalty  of  the  law  in  the  Tombs.  He  never  made 
any  formal  confession  of  his  guilt,  but  when  a son  of  the  murdered 
man  published  what  purported  to  be  the  conversation  between  his 
father  and  the  murderer,  Dolan  exclaimed  : 

“That’s  a lie  ! I never  said  anything  of  the  kind,”  thus  practi- 
cally admitting  that  he  was  the  man. 

The  last  day  of  the  year  1868  was  ushered  in  by  a heavy  snow- 
storm. The  jDure  soft  flakes  fell  noiselessly  on  the  pavement  until 
its  nakedness  was  hidden  beneath  a mantle  of  white.  On  East 
Twelfth  Street,  as  early  as  seven  o’clock,  an  elderly  gentleman, 
named  Charles  M.  Rogers,  was  in  front  of  his  residence,  at  No.  42, 
sweeping  the  fallen  substance  into  the  street.  As  he  swung  his 
broom,  keeping  time  with  a tune  which  he  was  humming,  a rough- 
looking man  crossed  the  street  and  approached  him.  As  he  got 
near  he  made  a dart  at  old  Mr.  Rogers’s  watch  and  pocket-book, 
and  transferred  them  to  the  side  pocket  of  his  blue  flannel  sack 
coat.  But  when  the  highway  robber  tried  to  make  off  with  his 
booty  he  found  he  was  restrained.  The  old  man  had  him  tightly 
held.  Then  began  a terrible  struggle.  The  thief  fought  like  a 
demon  to  get  free,  but  Mr.  Rogers’s  grip  was  firm.  Finally  the  as- 
sailant reached  a hand  for  the  knife  which  he  had  concealed  about 
him,  and  drawing  it,  plunged  it  into  the  bowels  of  his  antagonist. 
Then  with  an  extra  effort  he  broke  away,  and  the  old  man  fell 


THE  CARLETON  HOUSE  MYSTERY.  /,o5 

over,  clutching  a portion  of  his  assailant’s  coat  which  ha  ' parted 
in  the  struggle. 

All  this  happened  in  broad  daylight,  and  not  a few  persons  were 
in  the  street.  Yet  so  far  as  is  known  no  human  eye  witnessed  the 
murder,  for  such  it  was.  A few  minutes  later  Rogers  was  dis- 
covered dying  on  his  own  doorstep.  He  muttered  a few  words 
which  outlined  the  story  as  above  told,  and  then  died. 

Firmly  grasped  in  the  murdered  man’s  right  hand  was  the  part 
of  the  coat  which  he  had  torn  from  the  assassin.  The  snow  was 
gory  with  blood.  Near  by  was  the  garroter’s  hat  and  knife 
sheath.  In  the  pocket  of  the  torn  part  of  the  coat  was  the  watch 
and  wallet  of  Mr.  Rogers,  and  an  envelope  with  the  inscription  : 
“James  Logan,  New  York  City.  This  will  be  handed  you  by 
Tom.” 

This  the  police  considered  a good  clew,  and  at  once  commenced 
a vigorous  search  for  James  Logan.  A man  with  this  name  was 
found  to  be  living  in  the  upper  part  of  the  city,  and  he  was  arrested. 
It  was  ascertained  that  he  was  a plasterer  by  trade,  and,  strangely 
enough,  a small  quantity  of  plaster  was  found  in  the  -pocket  of  the 
coat  torn  from  the  murderer.  Then,  too,  he  was  proved  to  have 
been  in  the  vicinity  of  Twelfth  Street  shortly  before  the  murder. 
These  were  suspicious  circumstances,  but  he  explained  his  pres- 
ence on  Twelfth  Street  by  stating  that,  in  company  with  a friend, 
he  had  spent  the  night  in  a house  near  by.  This  was  ascertained 
to  be  true,  and  being  otherwise  of  a good  character  he  was  dis- 
charged from  custody. 

The  true  “James  Logan,”  however,  has  never  been  discovered, 
and  who  it  was  that  murdered  Mr.  Rogers  is  likely  to  remain 
forever  a mystery.  Many  individuals  bearing  the  name  of  Logan 
were  looked  up  and  “ shadowed,”  but  no  definite  results  followed. 

What  is  known  as  the  Carleton  House  mystery  created  a great 
sensation  at  the  time  it  was  discovered.  The  affair  is  still  as  much 
of  a mystery  as  ever,  but  the  people  have  forgotten  it. 

The  Carleton  House  is  situated  at  the  corner  of  William  and 
Frankford  streets,  and  is  a tall  building,  occupied  by  many  different 
kinds  of  people.  It  has  in  times  past  had  rather  a bad  reputation. 
The  traditions  which  cluster  around  its  mouldering  walls  tell  tales 
of  crime  which  gain  horror  with  age.  It  was  just  the  building  for 


406 


A WOMAN  S SKELETON. 


a mystery,  and  the  newspapers,  with  their  keen  instinct  for  what  is 
interesting,  made  the  most  of  it. 

One  day  in  December,  1884,  some  workmen  were  engaged  in 
cleaning  out  a sub-cellar  which  projected  under  the  William 
Street  sidewalk.  The  sub-cellar  had  long  been  closed,  and  was 
half  filled  with  ashes  and  other  refuse  which  had  been  dumped 
through  a trap-door  from  the  regular  basement  of  the  building. 
The  subterranean  apartment  was  many  feet  deep,  and  dark  and 
damp,  and  suggestive  of  crime.  It  was  not  a pleasant  place  to 
work.  Two  of  the  workmen  were  engaged  in  filling  a basket  of 
the  debris,  which  two  more  would  carry  to  a small  aperture  on  the 
Frankfort  Street  side,  whence  it  was  hoisted  by  ropes  and  pulleys 
to  the  sidewalk.  Candles  were  placed  here  and  there  in  the  dark 
passages  to  give  the  workmen  light.  Such  were  the  odors  which 
came  from  the  sub-cellar  that  the  men  inside  were  obliged  to  come 
out  at  short  intervals  for  fresh  air. 

On  this  December  day  that  I have  alluded  to,  the  flickering 
rays  of  a candle  were  casting  shadows  over  the  ash-heaps,  when 
one  of  the  workmen  in  his  digging  came  upon  a woman’s  hand 
sticking  out  of  the  rubbish.  It  was  a ghastly  sight  in  such  a place. 
Cold  perspiration  ran  down  the  workman’s  face,  and  he  darted 
for  the  place  of  exit  and  told  his  discovery  to  his  companions. 
The  first  spasm  of  fright  was  soon  over.  The  men  went  back  to 
their  work  after  having  summoned  a policeman.  Further  digging 
brought  forth  a most  horrible  sight.  It  was  the  skeleton  of  a 
woman  clothed  in  a maroon-colored  dress,  a dark  sacque  with 
bead  fringe,  and  .striped  stockings.  A heavy  stone  lay  across  her 
face,  and  a calico  cloth  was  tied  tightly. around  her  throat. 

The  body  was  dug  out  and  carried  to  the  Morgue.  It  looked  as 
if  it  had  been  dead  five  years.  The  police  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  they  had  before  them  to  unravel  the  greatest  mystery  they  had 
touched  in  years. 

Many  theories  were  broached  to  account  for  the  discovery  of 
the  body.  There  had  plainly  been  a murder.  There  was  the 
heavy  stone  across  the  face,  the  rag  around  the  throat,  and  the 
suggestive  trap-door  above.  But  who  could  have  done  it  ? and 
who  was  the  foul  murderer’s  victim  ? These  were  the  questions 
which  bothered  the  police  for  some  time,  until  finally  a theory  was 
accepted  as  most  plausible,  but  nevertheless  not  quite  satisfactory. 

It  seems  that  about  the  time  the  murder  was  supposed  to  have 


A WOMAN  WITH  A NOTORIOUS  HISTORY.  407 

been  committed,  the  room  above  the  sub-cellar  was  occupied  by 
Benjamin  Gray,  a printer.  There  were  witnesses  who  said  that 
Gray  often  had  visits  from  two  women,  one  of  whom,  after  awhile, 
ceased  to  come,  and  was  never  seen  again.  The  police  supposed 
that  Gray  had  killed  the  missing  woman  and  thrust  her  through  the 
trap-door.  The  sub-cellar  was  never  entered,  ashes  were  thrown 
through  the  opening  in  the  floor  above,  and  thus  the  murder  was 
never  discovered. 

The  next  thing  was  to  find  Gray.  After  softie  search  he  was  dis- 
covered in  the  Trenton  Penitentiary,  where  he  was  serving  a ten- 
years’  sentence,  for  attempting  to  murder  a woman  whom  he  called 
his  wife,  and  who  lived  in  Dover,  New  Jersey,  where  he  had  struck 
her  on  the  head  and  left  her  on  the  road-side  for  dead.  He  was 
surly  and  glum  when  spoken  to  concerning  the  body  which  was 
found  in  the  Carleton  House  sub-cellar,  and  would  neither  deny 
nor  affirm  the  charge  of  murder  against  him.  His  real  name  was 
Samuel  S.  Gray,  and  he  was  by  birth  an  Englishman,  and  about 
twenty-six  years  old.  His  term  expires  on  June  20,  1893,  and  it 
remains  to  be  seen  whether  he  will  then  be  re-arrested  on  this 
graver  charge.  His  wife  in  Dover  refused  to  say  anything  which 
would  in  any  way  implicate  her  husband.  So  there  is  still  a mys- 
tery hanging  about  the  Carleton  House. 

Early  dawn  was  just  sending  its  gray  shadows  against  the  build- 
ings in  Seventh  Avenue  on  the  morning  of  May  24,  1882,  when 
Josephine  Hawkes,  a woman  with  a notorious  history,  was  strolling 
toward  the  corner  of  Fifty-seventh  Street,  arm-in-arm  with  Louis 
W.  Gutermuth.  They  had  spent  the  night  in  carousing,  and  were 
out  “ walking  it  off.”  The  woman  told  her  companion  that  she 
thought  they  were  being  followed,  and  to  see  if  her  suspicions 
were  correct  they  turned  into  Fifty-seventh  Street.  As  they  did 
so,  the  man  behind  them  approached  rapidly,  and  coming  up  be- 
hind Mrs.  Hawkes  made  an  insulting  remark  to  her.  Gutermuth 
turned  around  to  retaliate  on  the  fellow,  when  the  latter  turned  on 
him,  and  with  a blow  felled  his  antagonist  to  the  ground.  In  his 
fall  Gutermuth  struck  his  head  heavily  on  the  curb-stone,  and 
while  down  he  received  another  blow  on  the  nose  from  a club. 
He  attempted  to  rise,  but  received  a third  blow  on  the  side  of  the 
head  with  a sand-bag,  which  stretched  him  again  on  the  ground. 
Mrs.  Hawkes  assisted  him  to  get  up ; he  was  very  feeble,  and  she 
looked  round  for  assistance.  After  some  time  she  found  an  offi- 


408 


FAMILY  QUARRELS. 


cer,  who  went  with  her  to  Mr.  Gutermuth’s  assistance.  He  was 
sitting  on  the  curbing,  so  injured  as  to  be  unable  to  give  his  exact 
address,  and  he  was  accordingly  taken  to  the  Roosevelt  Hospital. 
A member  of  the  firm  by  which  he  was  employed  found  him  in 
that  institution  on  the  25th  of  May  and  took  him  to  his  residence — 
at  Mrs.  Jardine’s,  No.  144  West  Forty-seventh  Street.  There  he 
received  such  careful  attention  that  on  the  3d  of  June  he  was 
able  to  go  to  his  office.  He  was  still  very  weak,  however,  and  was 
told  to  go  home  until  fully  recovered.  He  went  back  to  Mrs. 
Jardine’s,  became  worse,  aggravating  his  condition  by  paying  visits 
to  friends,  and  three  days  later  was  a dead  man. 

The  Central  Office  detectives  were  tardily  notified  of  his  death 
and  the  facts  connected  therewith.  On  the  13th  of  June  they  had 
in  custody  Mrs.  Hawkes,  Robert  C.  Clapp  and  John  K.  Imley,  a 
disreputable  private  detective.  These  arrests  were  made  on  what 
appeared  to  be  excellent  information  in  regard  to  a scandal  which 
had  existed  for  some  time,  and  which  grew  out  of  troubles  at  the 
Rossmore  Hotel  between  the  sons  of  Hawley  D.  Clapp  (the  pro- 
prietor), Robert  C.  (one  of  the  prisoners)  and  Mortimer  R.,  who 
were  made  executors  of  Mr.  Hawley  Clapp’s  will.  The  father 
died  in  1880,  and  the  sons  immediately  went  to  fighting  at  law. 
Robert,  who  was  a dissipated  fellow,  was  accused  of  various  offen- 
ces, criminal  and  otherwise,  and  his  mother  sided  with  Mortimer 
R.  They  had  Robert  C.  arrested  on  the  ground  that  he  was  a 
confirmed  drunkard.  The  charge  did  not  stand  in  court,  upon 
which  Robert  turned  round  and  had  Mortimer  arrested  upon  a 
charge  of  grand  larceny.  This  charge  was  also  dismissed,  and  the 
litigation  increased  the  bad  feeling  between  the  brothers,  Robert 
on  one  occasion  attempting  to  stab  Mortimer  with  a knife.  They 
had  a sister,  named  Nellie,  who  became  the  associate  of  Mrs. 
Hawkes,  and  was  her  equal  in  depravity.  Imley,  the  private  de- 
tective, was  the  “ familiar  ” of  Robert,  while  Mortimer  and  Guter- 
muth  were  friends.  A singular  circumstance  was  that  the  latter 
two  resembled  each  other  so  closely,  that  in  the  gray  light  of  a 
spring  morning  they  might  each  easily  have  been  mistaken  for  the 
other.  The  theory  of  the  detectives  in  arresting  Mrs.  Hawkes, 
Robert  Clapp  and  Imley  was  that  the  two  last-named  had  plotted 
to  attack  Mortimer,  anti  that  they  followed  Gutermuth  believing 
him  to  be  Mortimer.  There  was  a good  deal  of  “ volunteer  ” testi- 
mony placed  in  the  possession  of  the  Central  Office  detectives ; 


“ NIGHT-HAWKING.’ 


409 


but  when  the  inquest  was  held  it  was  manifest  that  the  mistaken- 
identity  theory  was  faulty;  and  after  a protracted  examination,  it 
served  only  to  throw  additional  mystery  around  the  affair.  It  es- 
tablished that  the  events  which  led  to  the  assault  were  simply  a 
street  altercation,  a sudden  brewing  of  hot  blood  and  the  striking 
of  one  or  more  deadly  blows.  Mrs.  Hawkes,  Clapp  and  Imley 
were  acquitted  by  the  coroner’s  jury.  For  nine  months  afterwards 
the  police  worked  unremittingly  on  the  case.  Several  promising 
clews  were  obtained,  but  they  ended  like  a track  in  the  Far  West, 
beginning  at  a broad  wagon-road  and  ending  in  a squirrel’s  “ run  ” 
up  a tree. 

Taken  as  a whole,  the  homicide  in  question  was  one  of  the 
most  peculiar  on  record.  Gutermuth  himself  was  a mystery,  to  a 
certain  extent,  both  before  and  after  his  death.-  It  is  believed 
that  he  was  born  in  Germany,  and  that  his  father  was  a furniture 
manufacturer  and  wealthy.  Louis  received  an  excellent  education 
and  spoke  English,  German  and  Spanish  fluently.  He  began  life 
for  himself  as  a book-keeper.  Subsequently  he  went  to  Cuba  as 
agent  for  Emil  Myer,  an  exporter  ; and  later  on  occupied  a simi- 
lar position  with  the  firm  of  Coombs,  Crosby  & Eddy,  who  were  in 
the  same  trade.  In  this  situation  Gutermuth  went  to  the  City  of 
Mexico  as  general  correspondent  of  the  firm,  and  now  and  then 
came  to  the  United  States.  He  last  visited  New  York  on  New  Year’s 
Day,  1882.  As  a business  man  he  was  eulogized  as  sober,  industri- 
ous and  capable.  Socially  he  was  exceedingly  popular  ; he  had  the 
entree  of  the  best  society  in  Mexico,  and  was  engaged  to  a young 
Mexican  lady.  In  New  York  he  belonged  to  several  social  organ- 
izations and  had  many  firm  friends. 

Mr.  Gutermuth,  it  should  be  stated,  had  a penchant  for  “ night- 
hawking.” He  was  not  a depraved  or  vicious  man,  but  he  loved 
good-fellowship,  and  his  friends  said  that  he  often  stayed  out  later 
than  his  own  tastes  would  have  permitted  him  because  he  was  un- 
willing to  break  up  a convivial  party.  It  thus  happened  that  he 
had  formed  the  acquaintance  of  Mrs.  Hawkes.  This  woman  was 
born  of  well-known  and  respectable  parents  in  the  Ninth  Ward. 
Many  of  her  relatives  were  employed  in  the  city  departments,  and 
several  of  them  were  policemen.  Pier  maiden  name  was  Jose- 
phine Webb.  In  1859  she  married  a shiftless  and  dishonest  fellow 
named  Monyea,  who,  before  the  honeymoon  was  barely  ended, 
was  arrested  for  the  theft  of  a diamond  ring.  Mrs.  Monyea 


4io 


“ BALDY  ” JOSEPHINE. 


invoked  “ influence  ” which  enabled  him  to  escape  with  a light 
sentence,  and  she  then  “ took  up  ” with  “ Con  ” Stagg,  an  Inter- 
nal Revenue  officer,  and  a frequenter  of  the  gambling  den 
called  “The  Place,”  on  Hudson  Street,  where  Sharkey  killed 
Dunn,  the  gambler.  She  has  often  said  that  Stagg  was  the  only 
man  for  whom  she  had  any  real  affection.  He  went  with  her  to 
San  Francisco,  where  Stagg,  wearying  of  her,  speculated  on  her 
charms.  He  opened  a gambling  house,  and  his  mistress  was  em- 
ployed in  luring  wealthy  Californians  into  the  meshes  of  his  net. 
The  place  was  run  as  a hotel,  with  the  attraction  of  a “ club  ” in 
which  faro  and  other  games  could  be  indulged  in.  While  here 
Josephine  met  with  a great  misfortune.  She  had  a luxuriant  head 
of  dark  hair,  which  she  lost  by  a fever,  and  then  replaced  it  by  a 
blonde  wig,  said  to  have  cost  $3000.  The  young  bloods  who 
patronized  her  “ husband’s  ” establishment  were  not  slow  in  carry- 
ing the  news  all  over  San  Francisco,  and  visitors  to  that  city  may 
see  in  sundry  nooks  and  corners  the  picture  of  the  handsome 
Josephine  without  her  wig,  facetiously  labelled  “ Baldy  Josephine,” 
or  “ Blondy.”  Lithographs  were  also  published  of  her  with  her 
wig  on,  but  those  who  possess  them  hold  them  at  an  exorbitant 
price. 

Somehow  or  other  the  popularity  of  Stagg  waned,  despite  the 
attractions,  real  and  false,  of  his  partner.  He  drank  deeply, 
gambled  recklessly,  and  lost  all  the  woman’s  esteem  by  publicly 
consorting  with  the  most  notorious  characters  of  the  Golden  Gate. 
Josephine  was  not  loath,  therefore,  to  accept  the  offer  made  her 
by  B.  Shafton  Hawkes  to  go  East  with  him.  She  settled  accounts 
in  San  Francisco  by  thrashing  her  latest  successor  in  Stagg’s  af- 
fections in  the  public  street,  while  Mr.  Hawkes  squared  matters 
with  Mr.  Stagg  by  lendi?ig  him  $ 10,000 . All  this  occurred  in 
April,  1877,  and  three  weeks  later  Josephine  and  Mr.  Hawkes 
arrived  in  New  York.  Her  story  was  that  she  had  obtained  a 
divorce  from  Stagg  and  had  married  Hawkes. 

Mr.  Hawkes  was  simply  “ tolerated  ” by  Josephine.  He  had  to 
submit  to  her  capers  and  extravagances,  and  three  years  after  he 
had  made  her  acquaintance  in  California  he  did  little  more  than 
support  her.  He  travelled  extensively  in  Europe  and  Canada, 
now  and  then  going  to  where  “ Mrs.  Hawkes  ” lived  and  appear- 
ing in  public  with  her.  It  is  said  he  fitted  up  a flat  at  No.  19 
Seventh  Avenue  and  lived  with  her  a few  weeks.  This  was  in 


A MUTUAL  INFATUATION. 


41  I 

June,  1881,  and  in  the  fall  of  that  same  year  Mr.  Hawkes  dropped 
out  of  sight,  gave  instructions  to  tradesmen  to  collect  bills  from 
the  “ lady,”  and  Mrs.  Hawkes  was  thrown  on  her  own  resources. 
Mrs.  Hawkes,  despite  years  of  dissipation,  was  yet  a remarkably 
handsome  woman.  Mr.  Gutermuth  became,  to  a certain  extent, 
infatuated  with  her,  and  on  the  night  of  the  assault  had  been  with 
her,  in  company  with  Nellie  Clapp  and  a gentleman  whose  con- 
nection with  the  murder  was  so  slight  that  I do  not  give  his  name. 

Emma  H.  Conkling,  in  1873,  when  she  was  nineteen  years  old, 
married,  at  San  Francisco,  J.  Clement  Uhler,  a stock  broker. 
They  lived  happily  several  years,  and  then  came  to  New  York, 
where  Uhler  went  into  partnership  with  Mr.  W.  H.  Haverstick, 
the  title  of  the  firm  being  “ J.  Clement  Uhler  & Co.”  At  that  time 
Mrs.  Uhler  had  become  the  mother  of  several  children,  but  not- 
withstanding this  fact  she  became  infatuated  with  Mr.  Haverstick, 
who  succeeded  in  seducing  her.  The  injured  husband  was  averse 
to  violent  methods  of  expressing  his  disapprobation  of  the  liaison, 
and  when  Mrs.  Uhler  left  his  bed  and  board  he  did  little  besides 
protest  against  an  act  which  would  bring  disgrace  on  both  fami- 
lies. Haverstick’s  infatuation  was  such  that  after  the  dissolution 
of  his  business  connection  with  the  man  he  had  dishonored,  he 
cohabited  with  Mrs.  Uhler — the  two  passing  as  brother  and  sister 
— and  in  the  summer  of  1882  they  went  to  live  in  the  Paris  Flats, 
No.  341  West  Twenty-third  Street,  where  Haverstick  was  subse- 
quently slain. 

A member  of  Mrs.  Uhler’s  family — her  brother,  George  W. 
Conkling,  Jr. — had  known  of  his  sister’s  disgrace  for  some  time. 
He  wrote  to  her  in  regard  to  it,  being  unable  to  visit  New  York, 
on  account  of  his  position  as  an  officer  of  the  U.  S.  Field  Service 
in  Nevada.  At  last,  however,  in  February,  1883,  Conkling  arrived 
in  New  York,  with  but  one  end  in  view — of  breaking  the  liaison, 
and  taking  his  sister  back  with  him  to  Reno,  Nevada.  His  first 
act  was  to  seek  out  Mrs.  Uhler,  talk  to  her  earnestly  of  her 
situation,  and  implore  her  to  leave  her  betrayer.  He  told  her 
he  thought  he  could  pave  the  way,  after  a short  time,  to  a recon- 
ciliation with  her  husband,  and  that  all  might  be  well  again.  But 
Mrs.  Uhler  rebelled  against  any  idea  of  a reconciliation.  She  said 
she  did  not  care  for  her  husband,  and  that  in  the  future,  whenever 
they  happened  to  be  on  bad  terms,  he  would  be  sure  to  “ cast  up  ” 
her  association  with  Haverstick. 


412 


SCENE  IN  THE  PARIS  FLATS. 


Conkling,  therefore,  gave  up  his  idea  of  re-uniting  husband  and 
wife,  but  he  set  himself  at  work  to  separate  his  sister  and  her  par- 
amour. She  finally  appeared  to  acquiesce  in  her  brother’s  wishes, 
and  it  was  arranged  that  on  a certain  evening  she  should  go  to  the 
Leland  Hotel  (where  her  brother  was  a guest),  place  herself  under 
his  protection  and  abandon  Haverstick  forever.  Conkling  had  so 
much  faith  in  his  sister’s  decision  that  he  made  preparations  for 
their  journey  westward. 

Mrs.  Uhler,  however,  did  not  keep  the  appointment  at  the 
Leland  House,  and  her  brother  went  to  the  Paris  Flats,  resolved  to 
do  something  desperate  if  he  could  not  tear  his  sister  from  the 
arms  of  the  man  who  had  betrayed  her.  Conkling  had  little  to 
fear  personally,  although  he  was  much  the  inferior  in  physique 
of  Haverstick,  who  was  a swart,  brawny  individual,  taller  and 
broader  than  the  man  who  nought  to  remedy  the  disgrace  into 
which  he  had  brought  Mrs.  Uhler.  But  Conkling  had  the  advant- 
age of  having  passed  several  years  as  a frontiersman,  and  also 
of  being  a strictly  temperate  person.  When  he  entered  the  little 
bijou  of  an  apartment  on  the  third  floor,  which  had  been  fitted  up 
handsomely  by  the  guilty  pair,  he  was  confronted  by  Haverstick, 
who  demanded  his  purpose,  well  knowing,  through  a confession  by 
Mrs.  Uhler,  for  what  he  came.  Conkling  said  boldly  that  he  had 
come  to  take  his  sister  away  at  all  hazards,  and  that  when  he  left 
the  house  she  should  accompany  him.  Haverstick  bullied  and 
Conkling  made  apathetic  appeal  to  his  sister,  which  was  offset 
by  an  equally  urgent  appeal  from  Haverstick.  The  woman  hes- 
itated, and  the  men  grew  more  and  more  angry  until  at  last,  after 
Conkling  had  denounced  the  seducer’s  villany  in  galling  terms, 
Haverstick  seized  a Dresden  vase  from  the  mantle-piece  and 
hurled  it  at  his  victim’s  brother. 

Conkling  was  accustomed  on  the  frontier  to  the  use  of  fire-arms 
and  knew  the  necessity  of  quick  action  in  an  emergency.  Before 
the  vase,  which  missed  him,  was  dashed  against  the  wall  of  the 
room,  his  hand  grasped  his  pistol.  Just  as  Haverstick  was  about 
to  throw  the  companion  vase  Conkling  levelled  his  weapon,  a shot 
rang  out,  and  the  bullet  pierced  Haverstick  in  the  centre  of  his 
body.  Conkling  threw  aside  his  pistol,  cast  a glance  at  Haver- 
stick, who  had  fallen  and  was  leaning  on  his  arm  gazing  appeal- 
ingly at  the  sister’s  avenger,  walked  out  of  the  apartment,  brushed 
aside  his  half-frantic  relative,  and  going  to  the  Grand  Opera 


“god  bless  my  mother.” 


413 


House  surrendered  himself  to  Officer  J.  W.  Mantell,  of  the  Six- 
teenth Precinct. 

Meanwhile  physicians  were  summoned  to  the  Paris  Flats,  where 
they  found  that  Haverstick  was  mortally  wounded.  Although 
fully  cognizant  that  his  end  was  near,  he  was  loath  at  first  to  name 
his  assailant,  probably  from  feelings  of  remorse ; but  at  last  he 
endeavored  to  raise  himself  from  his  bed,  on  which  he  had  been 
lying,  and  in  a burst  of  passion  exclaimed  : 

“ George  Conkling  shot  me — shot  me  down  like  a dog.  But  I 
forgive  him.  I don’t  think  he  meant  to  kill  me.” 

Then  he  sank  back  on  his  pillow  and  murmured  as  in  a dream  : 
“ God  bless  my  mother  ! ” 

A few  moments  later  he  was  dead.  The  homicide  did  not  ex- 
cite  any  feeling  of  animosity  towards  Conkling.  By  the  general 
public  it  was  considered  the  avenging  of  Mr.  Uhler  and  the  honor 
of  the  Conkling  family.  Young  Conkling  readily  procured  bail. 
Mrs.  Uhler  was  deeply  affected  by  the  tragedy,  and  was  in  con- 
stant hysterics  for  several  days.  At  the  inquest,  however,  after 
acknowledging  her  disgrace  without  reserve,  she  told  the  story  of 
her  brother’s  endeavor  to  separate  her  from  the  man  with  whom 
she  had  become  infatuated.  She  gave  testimony  which  was  very 
favorable  to  the  defendant.  The  outcome  of  the  inquest  was  that 
Conkling  was  held  for  trial  on  the  following  extraordinary  ver- 
dict : 

“ We  find  that  Wilbur  H.  Haverstick  came  to  his  death  by  a 
pistol-shot  wound  in  the  abdomen,  fired  by  George  W.  Conkling, 
Jr.,  on  the  evening  of  March  19,  1883,  at  341  West  Twenty-third 
Street,  and  that  the  shot  was  fired  under  great  provocation.” 

After  Mr.  Conkling  obtained  bail  he  went  West,  came  back  to 
be  tried  for  the  crime,  was  acquitted  and  went  West  again  to  die. 

Mrs.  Uhler  did  not  reform.  She  contracted  the  opium  habit, 
and  died  a wretched  death  in  this  city. 

When  Nancy  Francis,  the  cook  at  Mrs.  Jane  Lawrence  De  For- 
rest Hull’s  boarding  house  at  No.  140  West  Forty-second  Street, 
went  to  her  mistress’s  room  at  seven  o’clock  on  the  morning  of  June 
11,  1879, to  awaken  her,  she  shrieked  with  terror.  The  sight  which 
met  her  gaze  was  terrible  to  behold.  Mrs.  Hull  lay  flat  on  her 
back ; there  was  a bandage  tied  tightly  around  her  eyes,  her  throat 
was  bound  and  bed-clothes  were  stuffed  into  her  mouth,  her  hands 
and  legs  were  each  fastened  to  the  sides  of  the  bed  with  strips 


4*4 


STRAPPED  TO  THE  BED. 


of  linen  torn  from  the  sheets.  Her  face  was  purple  and  cold  as 
death.  When  the  bandage  was  removed  from  her  eyes  they  were 
found  to  be  burned,  and  the  lashes  and  brows  singed.  The  odor 
of  cologne  permeated  the  atmosphere.  The  woman  was  dead. 

It  is  needless  to  say  there  was  an  uproar  in  that  house.  Mrs. 
Hull  was  the  wife  of  Dr.  Alonzo  G.  Hull,  and  about  fifty-eight  years 
old.  She  weighed  about  two  hundred  pounds.  There  were  about 
a dozen  boarders  in  the  house,  who  rushed  from  their  rooms  in 
alarm  when  they  heard  the  cook’s  shrieks.  When  they  discovered 
that  their  landlady  had  been  murdered  they  were  highly  excited. 
The  police  were  immediately  called,  and  Captain  Williams  was 
soon  in  possession  of  the  house.  He  thought  that  the  enormity  of 
the  crime  was  sufficient  to  warrant  my  presence,  and  at  a special 
summons  from  him  I went  to  the  house. 

I found  that  the  room  in  which  the  murder  had  occurred — for 
that  such  it  was  there  could  be  no  doubt — was  a small  one,  12x6 
feet,  at  the  end  of  the  hallway.  There  was  every  evidence  that 
a robbery  had  been  committed.  A ring  had  been  torn  from  Mrs. 
Hull’s  finger,  and  a gold  watch,  chain,  an  enamelled  ring,  a dia- 
mond ring  and  a topaz  necklace  were  missing.  Much  silverware 
and  jewellery,  however,  were  undisturbed.  A colored  servant, 
Nellie  West,  had  found  the  front  door  of  the  house  open  at  five 
a.  m.  The  thief  and  murderer  had  evidently  been  familiar  with 
the  house. 

A post-mortem  examination  was  held,  and  revealed  the  fact  that 
Mrs.  Hull  had  died  of  suffocation.  Her  lungs  and  brain  were  con- 
gested. I concluded,  after  I had  learned  these  facts,  that  the  mur- 
der had  probably  been  unintentional.  Whether  there  was  really  a 
thief  in  the  case  I confess  I was  in  doubt.  Dr.  Hull’s  actions 
were  very  peculiar.  He  seemed  to  exhibit  no  special  concern,  and 
I had  a suspicion  that  he  was  the  murderer.  I beg  his  pardon 
for  the  suspicion,  but  I could  not  help  it.  Mrs.  Hull  had  specu- 
lated largely  in  stocks,  and  when  this  was  known  it  added  to  the 
complexity  of  the  case. 

I went  to  work  at  the  case  with  a vim.  I found  in  a few  days 
after  the  sad  occurrence  that  some  of  Mrs.  Hull’s  stolen  jewellery 
had  been  offered  for  sale  in  Boston.  The  watch  had  been  pawned. 
When  the  Boston  police  ascertained  this  they  telegraphed  us  a de- 
scription of  the  man  who  had  offered  the  valuables  for  sale.  We 
identified  it  as  that  of  Chastine  Cox,  alias  John  Cox,  alias  William 


TRACKED  BY  A REPORTER. 


415 


Francis,  at  one  time  a waiter  in  Mrs.  Hull’s  house,  ancl  sent  back 
word  to  the  police  of  Boston  to  find  the  man  if  they  could. 

About  a week  after  this  came  the  news  of  Cox’s  arrest,  and  the 
particulars  somewhat  surprised  us.  Mr.  W.  R.  Balch,  a reporter 
on  the  Boston  Herald, , obtained  a description  of  Cox  from  the 
police  in  the  course  of  his  regular  duties,  and  mentally  photo- 
graphed him.  As  he  was  walking  along  Waltham  Street  on  Mon- 
day, June  23,  he  noticed  a negro  in  front  of  him  who  seemed  to 
answer  the  description  given  of  Cox.  He  accordingly  followed 
him  and  saw  him  enter  a small  church  frequented  wholly  by 
colored  people  on  Harrison  Avenue.  Mr.  Balch  at  once  made 
known  his  discovery  to  Detective  Wood,  who,  with  another 
officer,  went  to  the  church  in  question.  The  sexton  was  requested 
to  call  Cox  outside,  which  he  accordingly  did,  and  upon  the  sus- 
pected murderer  stepping  into  the  vestibule,  he  was  arrested. 
When  searched  at  the  police  station,  Cox  had  on  his  person, 
besides  other  things,  a revolver  and  a gold  watch.  TThe  latter  was 
at  once  identified  as  being  one  of  the  articles  stolen  from  Mrs. 
Hull’s  room  on  the  night  the  burglary  was  committed  and  she  was 
so  brutally  murdered.  The  following  day  he;  was  brought  on  to 
New  York,  and  shortly  after  his  arrival  Cox  made  what  he  called 
a “ confession.”  In  it  he  said  he  entered  the  house  through  one 
of  the  front  parlor  windows  which  he  found  unfastened  ; and  that 
when  Mrs.  Hull  awoke  and  made  an  outcry,  he  tied  her  hands 
and  feet,  put  his  hands  over  her  face  and  stuffed  up  her  mouth 
with  a portion  of  the  bed-clothes.  He  then  went  on  to  say  that 
while  looking  round  the  room  for  money  he  suddenly  noticed  that 
Mrs.  Hull  had  ceased  to  breathe  and,  seizing  a bottle  of  cologne, 
he  dashed  the  liquid  on  her  face.  It  was  too  late,  however  ; Mrs. 
Hull  was  dead.  Upon  his  trial  he  was  found  guilty,  and  while 
confined  in  the  Tombs  under  sentence  of  death,  he  made  what  was 
undoubtedly  a true  statement  of  the  facts,  which  utterly  contra- 
dicted his  former  story.  In  this  second  confession  Cox  admitted 
having  been  Mrs.  Hull’s  lover  for  some  considerable  length  of 
time,  and  that  he  had  been  in  the  habit  of  constantly  visiting  at 
night.  In  fact  she  had  provided  him  with  keys  to  the  house  and 
her  apartment.  On  the  night  of  the  murder  he  went  to  her  room 
as  usual.  For  some  days  previously  he  had  been  playing  policy, 
and  having  lost  heavily  was  in  need  of  money.  He  demanded 
the  needed  amount  from  Mrs.  Hull,  who  replied  that  she  had  no 


AT  THE  PRAYER-MEETING. 


THE  TRUTH  AT  LAST. 


417 


money.  Going  to  the  dressing  table,  Cox  snatched  up  some 
jewellery  and  observed  that  he  would  raise  money  on  it  and  bring 
her  the  pawn-tickets.  The  unfortunate  woman  attempted  to 
snatch  the  jewellery  from  his  hand  ; there  was  a struggle  between 
the  two  which  only  ended  in  death,  as  before  described. 

This  statement,  together'  with  affidavits  to  the  effect  that  Cox 
had  had  free  access  to  the  house  and  was  intimate  with  Mrs. 
Hull,  were  laid  before  the  governor.  That  official,  however,  re- 
fused to  interfere  with  the  due  execution  of  the  sentence  already 
imposed.  Although  the  killing  of  Mrs.  Hull,  he  said,  might  have 
been  unpremeditated  and  unintentional,  the  crime,  nevertheless, 
was  murder  in  the  first  degree,  as  it  was  undoubtedly  committed 
during  the  attempted  burglary  of  a house  in  the  night  time. 

Cox  was  therefore  hung  at  the  Tombs,  and  met  his  fate  with 
becoming  resignation,  so  I have  been  informed  by  those  who  wit- 
nessed the  execution. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 


THE  CHINESE  QUARTER. — HAUNTS  OF  CHINESE  VICE. — A SUNDAY’S 

VISIT. IN  AN  OPIUM  JOINT. THE  GAME  OF  POLICY. AT  THE 

FONG  TONG  TABLE. THE  SOCIAL  EVIL. — DEGRADATION  OF 

WHITE  WOMEN. — THE  EVIL  OF  THE  LAUNDRIES. CHINESE 

AND  AMERICAN  MARRIAGES. — BEFORE  THE  GREAT  JOSS. 

Of  all  foreign  colonies  in  New  York  the  Chinese  is  the  most 
picturesque.  Emigrants  from  European  countries  merge  them- 
selves in  the  American  population,  acquire  the  English  tongue, 
study  the  spirit  of  our  institutions,  and  are  content  to  live  and  die 
within  the  bounds  of  the  great  republic.  But  the  Chinaman  is  a 
unique  and  isolated  figure.  Suspicious  as  a man  who  finds  him- 
self in  a den  of  thieves,  he  is  ever  on  the  watch  while  he  works  for 
some  new  manifestation  of  that  American  temperament  which  his 
own  mind,  dense  with  the  superstitions  of  many  thousand  years, 
can  never  quite  understand.  He  scents  in  the  average  citizen  an 
alert  foe  to  his  nationality,  creed  and  habits.  Consideration  and 
kindness  never  disarm  him.  He  is  even  distrustful  of  that  tongue 
which  the  Americans  use  with  such  nervous  energy,  and  year  after 
year  passes  over  his  head  without  an  attempt  to  learn  more  of  the 
language  than  suffices  for  his  business  relations  with  the  people 
whom  he  fears  and  dislikes.  And  so  it  follows  that  he  wears  the 
flowing  blouse,  the  loose  trowsers,  and  the  paper  shoes  of  his 
countrymen  at  home  ; lets  his  queue  hang  down  his  back,  and 
eats  the  peculiar  dishes  whose  secret  he  brought  with  him  from 
the  remote  East.  His  amusements,  too,  are  essentially  Chinese. 
He  clings  to  the  opium  habit,  and  cannot  see  the  good  of  casting 
it  loathingly  behind  him.  He  has  his  own  clumsy  methods  of 
gambling,  which  require  the  least  effort  of  his  enervated  mind. 
When  he  plays  his  favorite  game  of  policy  he  employs  a system  of 
counting  which  is  grotesque  to  the  American  eye.  When  he 
drinks  it  is  a decoction  made  from  the  extract  of  a nut  which  is  in- 
describably offensive  to  delicate  palates.  When  he  wants  music 
he  thrums  on  a Celestial  mandolin  an  air  of  unbroken  monotony. 

418 


OPIUM  “JOINTS.” 


419 


His  pleasure  is  grave  and  subdued,  as  if  he  lived  under  the  spell 
of  his  impish  and  wooden-featured  gods.  It  is  his  taciturn  humor, 
his  creeping  isolation,  his  clannish  fashions,  his  uncanny  likes 
and  dislikes,  and  his  jealousy  of  push  and  progress,  that  make  the 
Chinaman  stand  out  a conspicuous  oddity  in  our  restless  popula- 
tion. He  is  like  the  figure  of  one  of  his  own  curiously  carved  and 
hideous  idols.  There  is  probably  no  American  who  does  not  re- 
gard the  Chinese  as  beings  dissimilar  to  and  dissonant  with  him- 
self ; as  a caste  shut  out  by  its  fantastic  personality  from  his  sym- 
pathies and  associations. 

Unless  it  be  San  Francisco,  there  is  no  city  in  the  United  States 
where  the  Chinese  can  be  studied  to  such  advantage  as  in  New 
York.  There  are  between  six  and  seven  thousand  settled  in  our 
midst,  forming  a compact  and  well-regulated  colony.  Their  main 
settlement  is  in  the  lower  part  of  Mott  Street,  with  branches  run- 
ning into  Pell  and  Park  streets.  Here  in  old,  dark  and  dirty  ten 
ement  houses  they  swarm,  like  coolies  on  a Pacific  steamer. 
Around  and  on  all  sides  of  them  live  the  crowded  Italians,  Irish, 
Jews  and  Germans;  hucksters,  rag-pickers,  laborers,  loafers, 
thieves  and  vagrants ; but  none  in  darker1  and  narrower  quarters 
than  the  Chinese.  Scattered  in  other  parts  of  the  city,  even  to  the 
outskirts,  are  hundreds  of  laundries.  Their  occupants  have  more 
space  to  move  and  breathe  in  than  the  Mott  Street  Chinaman,  but 
every  Sunday  sees  them  wending  their  way  to  mingle  with  their 
friends  in  the  big  settlement,  with  its  stores,  restaurants  and  joss 
house.  It  was  natural  that  in  a colony  welded  into  one  whole  the 
fashions  and  practices  peculiar  to  remote  China  should  prevail 
an’d  take  root.  Some  of  those  practices  are  no  doubt  bad  and 
vicious,  but  they  have  been  transplanted  and  they  flourish  here. 
Among  them  none  is  more  pernicious  than  the  opium  habit.  And 
it  is  to  indulge  in  his  beloved  drug  by  smoking  it  in  long,  cum- 
brous pipes  that  the  Chinamen  rendezvous  in  Mott  Street  Sunday 
after  Sunday. 

The  “joints”  are  usually  situated  at  the  end  of  a passage  in  a 
weather-beaten  brick  house,  no  doubt  the  scene  in  other  years  of 
brawls  and  orgies  among  the  debased  tenants.  The  Chinamen 
glide  into  these  houses  as  stealthily  as  shadows,  for  they  know 
that  the  opium  den  is  under  the  ban  of  the  law  and  that  it  may  be 
raided  by  the  poliqe  at  any  hour  of  the  day  or  night.  The  authori- 
ties are  disposed  to  let  the  Chinamen  congregate  as  friends  to  en- 


42  0 


DREAMING  AWAY  THE  HOURS. 


joy  a sociable  pipe  of  opium,  but  set  their  faces  hard  against  the 
practice  as  it  prevails  in  the  notorious  joint.  With  the  connivance 
of  some  politician,  a Chinaman  is  sometimes  able  to  fit  up  an 
opium  den  with  pipes  and  lounges,  where  he  makes  a profitable 
business  of  drugging  his  almond-eyed  friends  with  the  narcotic. 

But  the  politician,  in  permitting  the  joint  to  exist  for  a weekly 

tax,  draws  the  line  at  the  admittance  of  Americans.  Occasionally 
a degraded  white,  who  has  become  wedded  to  opium  for  the 
pleasure  it  affords  him,  is  tolerated  among  the  Chinese  smokers. 

But  his  introduction  is  attended  with  peril  to  the  interests 

of  the  keeper  of  the  joint,  for  no  sooner  is  it  known  to  the 
Chinaman’s  accomplice  on  the  police  force  than  the  den  is  raided 
and  indiscriminate  arrests  of  whites  and  Mongols  are  made.  If 
an  American,  however,  has  had  a long  acquaintance  with  an  intel- 
ligent Chinaman  he  may  get  admitted  to  the  joint  solely  to  look 
on  at  the  opium  smoking  but  not  to  indulge  in  it. 

This  is  the  picture  he  sees.  A low  apartment  divided  into  stalls, 
between  which  runs  a passage  to  the  kitchen  in  the  rear,  where 
the  opium  is  prepared.  In  each  compartment  is  a low  lounge  of 
matting  furnished  with  pillows  for  the  smoker’s  head.  The  walls 
are  covered  with  a cheap  paper  and  with  crude  Chinese  designs  ; 
an  oil  lamp  swings  from  the  ceiling.  The  effect  of  the  division  of 
the  place  into  stalls  is  to  remind  one  of  the  steerage  of  an  ocean 
steamer,  and  the  indescribable  odor  that  floats  in  the  air  strength- 
ens the  illusion.  Each  lounge  is  equipped  with  a tray  holding  the 
smoking  apparatus,  which  consists  of  a pipe,  needle,  opium  jar 
and  sweet-oil  lamp.  It  is  a rare  thing  for  the  compartments  not 
to  be  well  patronized  after  dark.  Reclining  on  the  lounges  with 
their  heads  propped  up  by  pillows  twro  Chinamen  on  each  lounge 
may  be  seen  smoking  or  dreaming  away  the  hours.  The  process 
of  using  the  opium  is  simple.  From  the  little  opium  jar  the 
smoker  takes  on  the  point  of  a needle  a lump  of  matter  which  is 
thick  and  dark  like  molasses.  He  winds  it  around  the  needle  un- 
til it  adheres  without  dropping,  and  then  holds  the  substance  over 
the  flame  of  the  lamp.  The  opium  sizzles  and  turns  to  a rich  am- 
ber color,  the  Chinaman  watching  it  with  a drowsy  face,  in  which 
there  is  not  the  least  vestige  of  intelligence.  The  cooking,  as  it  is 
called,  lasts  perhaps  two  minutes.  Then  the  smoker  takes  his 
long  cane  pipe  in  one  hand  to  stuff  into  it  the  bg.ll  of  opium.  The 
stem  is  about  two  feet  in  length  and  an  inch  and  a half  in  diam- 


HOW  OPIUM  IS  SMOKED. 


42 


eter,  and  is  made  of  reed  or  Chinese  mahogany.  The  bowl  is  a 
piece  of  wood  of  the  color  of  burnt  clay,  with  a hole  in  the  centre 
about  as  large  as  the  thick  part  of  a big  darning-needle,  and 
it  is  set  into  the  stem  six  or  eight  inches  from  the  end.  The 
mouth-piece  of  this  clumsy  pipe  does  not  taper  off  into  a smooth 
piece  of  amber,  but  is  of  the  same  size  as  the  stem  itself.  Into 
the  aperture  of  the  bowl  the  Chinaman  packs  the  opium  with  the 
point  of  a huge  needle.  Now  his  preparations  are  complete.  He 
turns  himself  on  his  side  and  holds  the  bowl  close  to  the  flame  so 
that  the  opium  can  burn  slowly.  His  eyes  half  close,  a look  of 
languor  steals  over  his  features,  and  he  sucks  in  from  the  big 
mouth-piece  a cloud  of  smoke  which  he  takes  into  his  lungs  and 
breathes  out  through  his  nostrils.  In  a minute  and  a half  the 
opium  is  exhausted,  only  a. charred  remnant  remaining  in  the  bowl. 
Reveries,  dreams  and  stupefaction  do  not  come  with  one  pipe. 
Again  and  again  the  smoker  cooks  his  lump  of  opium,  packs  it 
into  the  bowl,  and  lazily  watches  the  smoke  curl  up  around  the 
hanging  lamp.  After  awhile  the  pipe  drops  from  his  nerveless 
hand,  there  is  a glaze  on  his  eyes,  which  are  half-shut,  like  a dead 
man’s,  his  lips  part,  his  head  falls  upon  his  breast,  and  he  is  in 
that  opium  trance  which  is  either  paradise  or  hell,  according  to  the 
degree  of  his  indulgence  in  the  narcotic.  It  may  be  that  his  fel- 
low on  the  lounge  has  thrown  aside  the  pipe  before  its  effects  have 
overcome  him,  and  is  holding  a half-consumed  cigarette  between 
his  lips.  His  expression  is  listless  and  blank.  His  companion 
is  wrapped  in  the  opium  sleep,  limp,  pale  and  motionless,  but  he 
does  not  look  at  him  lying  as  one  dead  on  the  other  side  of  the 
little  lamp  of  swTeet  oil  which  burns  with  a bluish  flame,  like  an 
imp  of  fire  in  a bottle.  The  air  is  dense  with  an  oppressive  odor 
that  has  a leaden  and  drowsy  effect  evef)  on  the  chance  visitor. 

In  possession  of  other  lounges  lie  Chinamen  in  all  kinds  of  pos- 
tures and  in  all  stages  of  the  opium  languor.  Now  there  is  a still- 
ness as  of  death,  and  now  a jerky  guttural  comes  from  the  throat 
of  a dreamer  tumbled  into  a heap  on  a lounge  in  a dark  corner. 
Sometimes  a door  opens  and  a new  comer  breaks  the  silence  with 
a confused  jargon.  But  there  is  not  much  conversation  in  the 
opium  joint ; the  genius  of  the  place  holds  his  worshippers  in  a 
speechless  and  inert  thrall.  The  hanging-lamps  burn  with  a 
yellow  flicker  through  the  long  night  hours,  and  a cloud  of  opium 
smoke  is  often  drawn  over  them  like  a veil.  The  place  is  rude 


422 


A GRINNING  TYRANT. 


and  often  unclean,  but  the  minds  of  the  sleepers  are  building  for 
them  palaces  of  rare  beauty,  sunsets  of  eternal  glory,  and  gardens 
of  musical  fountains  and  blossoming  flowers.  No  one  can  be  so 
transcendently  happy  as  these  wretched  creatures  in  the  depth  of 
their  degradation.  De  Quincey  has  depicted  in  imperishable  lan- 
guage the  pageants  and  forms  of  beauty  he  saw  in  his  trances,  but 
fortunately  for  his  fellow-men  he  has  also  drawn  pictures  of  the 
exquisite  torture  he  suffered  in  the  moments  when  his  nerves  were 
drawn  out  like  fine  wire  through  infinite  space.  As  the  night 
wears  on  a sleeper  here  and  there  rouses  himself  to  his  feet  and 
with  dulled  eyes  and  mechanical  movement  passes  out  through  the 
door  into  the  night  and  the  yellow-lighted  street.  Perhaps  his 
senses  mark  the  staggering  gait  and  hear  the  shout  of  a belated 
roisterer.  Wine  may  be  a bad  taskmaster  but  opium  is  a grinning 
tyrant  who  releases  his  victims  only  when  their  nerves  are  shattered 
to  fragments  and  death  yawns  horribly  before  them.  Better  to  be 
the  wine-inflamed  debauchee  than  the  stupefied  smoker  of  opium. 

But  the  stagnant  dissipation  of  the  smoker’s  life  in  the  joint 
goes  on  all  night.  No  breath  of  pure  air  strays  in  to  cool  the 
dreamer’s  brow  ; doors  are  sealed  tight,  lamps  steadily  flame,  and 
the  white  smoke  hangs  in  layers  in  the  light  and  is  banked  up  in 
dark  corners.  In  the  rear  of  the  rows  of  bunks  is  the  opium 
kitchen,  where  a boilerful  of  a black  fluid  is  bubbling  audibly. 
Near  it  sits  the  keeper  of  the  joint,  a pipe  of  tobacco  in  his  mouth. 
He  cannot  afford  to  drug  and  daze  himself.  He  must  attend  to 
the  wants  of  his  patrons,  refill  the  opium  jars,  prepare  the  pipes  of 
nerveless  smokers,  trim  the  yellow  lamps,  and  collect  his  dues. 
The  fluid  in  the  boiler  is  opium  forming  into  the  glutinous  mass 
with  which  the  jars  are  replenished.  A dense  cloud  of  steam  rolls 
up  from  the  iron  pot ; if  you  put  your  head  into  it  you  will  find  the 
odor  suggestive  of  a grave  vault,  and  loving  fresh  air  you  will  draw 
back  with  repugnance.  Daylight  can  steal  in  even  through  the 
blind  windows  of  an  opium  den,  and  when  it  comes  the  dreamers 
know  that  they  must  go  out  to  that  toil  which  earns  them  the 
price  of  their  indulgence.  And  so,  one  by  one,  they  get  up  with 
stiffened  limbs  and  issue  forth  to  their  laundries  and  tea  stores. 

Another  Chinese  habit  that  is  almost  as  pernicious  in  its  effects 
as  opium  smoking  is  the  habit  of  gambling.  The  Celestial  is  a 
shameless  and  inveterate  gambler.  It  is  a rare  thing  to  find  a 
Chinaman  who  is  not  infatuated  with  games  of  chance.  His 


CHINESE  GAMBLING. 


423 


gambling  takes  two  forms,  policy  and  “ fong  tong.”  The  houses  in 
which  these  games  flourish  are  designated  by  white  characters 
painted  on  the  porch  or  door.  If  you  pass  through  Mott  or  Pell 
streets  you  will  see  these  places  every  few  steps.  It  may  be  that 
the  den  is  in  a basement  below  the  sidewalk,  and  often  it  is 
reached  by  three  or  four  crooked  flights  of  stairs.  The  policy 
shop  is  the  most  interesting  to  Americans,  because  our  own  ne- 
groes and  shiftless  whites  throughout  the  United  States  play  the 
game  to  a great  extent.  The  Chinese  game  is  not  so  complex  as  the 
American,  in  which  the  term  “gig,”  “whip”  and  “saddle”  con- 
fuse the  uninitiated.  The  Chinese  policy-shop  is  usually  a square 
room  boarded  up  to  the  ceiling  with  pine  planks.  It  is  divided 
into  two  parts  by  wooden  bars,  which  run  up  to  the  plastering. 
Behind  this  partition  stands  the  owner  of  the  game  and  his  assist- 
ants. In  the  space  outside  tables  are  set  against  the  walls  for  the 
accommodation  of  the  players,  and  hung  above  is  a sheaf  of  tickets. 
In  Mott  Street  two  drawings  take  place  every  day,  at  four  o’clock 
in  the  afternoon  and  at  ten  o’clock  in  the  evening.  When  the 
Chinaman  wants  to  play  policy  he  tears  a ticket  from  the  sheaf  on 
the  wall,  and  pores  over  it  for  a few  minutes  before  selecting  his  num- 
bers, of  which  there  are  eighty  printed  on  the  slip  of  paper.  These 
numbers  are  Chinese  characters,  incomprehensible  to  an  Amer- 
ican. Perhaps  the  player  has  had  a dream  the  night  before  that 
a certain  combination  of  figures  will  bring  him  fortune,  or  perhaps, 
like  the  American  gambler,  he  employs  a “ system.”  When  his 
mind  is  made  up  he  seizes  a little  stick  from  the  table,  dips  it  in 
red  paint,  and  daubs  the  numbers  that  he  fancies.  He  does  this 
in  a very  clumsy  fashion,  and  when  he  has  finished  the  ticket 
]ooks  as  if  a dozen  strawberries  had  been  crushed  into  it.  He 
may  play  five  or  more  numbers,  according  to  the  money  he  risks. 
He  hands  his  combination  to  a Chinaman  behind  the  bars,  who 
puts  it  on  file.  Hour  after  hour  ttie  Celestials  pour  in  to  try  their 
luck.  Some  of  them  never  miss  a drawing,  even  if  they  have  only 
a few  cents  to  lose.  The  dream  of  their  lives  is  to  make  a lucky 
strike.  They  don’t  talk  very  much,  except  when  excited  with 
winning,  and  then  their  jerky  speech  jars  the  ear  like  the  sound 
of  a rusty  wagon  wheel.  Behind  the  bars  the  proprietor  is  kept 
busy  receiving  money  and  giving  change.  His  expression  is  al- 
ways fixed  and  stolid.  For  impassiveness  the  American  gam- 
bler cannot  be  compared  with  him.  But  if  an  inquisitive  stranger 


POLICY. 


424 

puts  his  face  into  the  shop  and  peers  at  the  strange  scene,  at  once 
a look  of  ugly  distrust  comes  into  the  face  of  the  gambler  behind  the 
wooden  fence.  He  now  has  the  appearance  of  a venomous  animal 
in  a cage.  A hostile  light  glitters  in  his  eyes,  and  if  the  strange 
white  man  has  been  piloted  in  by  a Chinaman  it  is  with  no 
friendly  glance  that  the  latter  is  regarded.  Next  to  an  unknown 
American  the  Chinaman  hates  one  of  his  own  kind  who  shows  the 
American  the  sights  and  oddities  of  Chinatown.  Uppermost  in 
his  mind  is  the  fear  that  the  strangely  assorted  couple  have  de-  ‘ 
signs  on  his  business.  He  thinks  he  may  be  black-mailed  by 
threats  of  police  interference.  If  an  American  wishes  to  see  an 
evil  expression  on  a human  creature’s  face  he  should  penetrate 
a Chinese  gambling  den  and  loiter  about  until  the  keeper  of  the 
place  and  his  satellites  have  worked  themselves  into  an  agony  of 
nervousness.  If  glances  coufd  kill  he  would  be  mutilated  after  a 
hundred  fashions. 

When  the  hours  have  arrived  at  which  the  Celestial  policy-player 
is  to  learn  whether  he  has  lost  his  wretched  stake  or  is  to  see  it 
multiplied  many  times  the  chief  interest  begins.  About  fifteen 
minutes  before  the  drawing  eighty  numbers  are  scrawled  on  slips 
of  paper,  all  of  the  same  size.  These  are  rolled  up  into  balls  and 
placed  in  equal  numbers  in  three  white  bowls.  Then  a Chinaman 
mixes  them  up  by  changing  handfuls  of  the  balls  from  bowl  to 
bowl.  Finally  the  numbers  are  thrown  into  one  large  basin,  and 
thirteen  of  them  are  picked  out  at  random.  They  are  passed 
down  the  table  to  a Chinaman  who  keeps  the  record.  Then  it  is 
that  the  waiting  gamblers  beyond  the  railing  give  their  strictest 
attention  to  the  procedure.  Their  eyes  twinkle  and  expand,  they 
change  their  attitudes  from  one  foot  to  the  other  or  plunge  their 
hands  under  their  blouses.  But  after  all,  they  resemble  American 
gamblers  in  a studied  unconcern  and  a rigid  repression  of  feeling. 
The  recording  Chinaman  slowly  unrolls  the  balls.  He  is  the  ar- 
biter of  fate,  and  he  takes  his  time.  As  his  eye  catches  sight  of 
the  number  he  clangs  it  out  in  a monotone.  Not  a word  is  heard 
among  the  gamblers.  Some  of  them  stand  near  the  railing  with 
their  eyes  fixed  on  the  clerk  of  numbers.  Others  are  sitting  down 
at  tables  daubing  red  marks  on  fresh  tickets  to  designate  how  the 
drawing  is  running.  As  it  proceeds  they  know  how  many  of  their 
guesses  were  correct.  The  harsh  monotone  rises  thirteen  times 
and  then  ceases.  When  it  has  died  away  most  of  the  China- 


HOW  IT  IS  PLAYED. 


425 


men  straggle  out  with  hands  in  their  pockets.  They  speak  not 
a word,  and  look  neither  vexed  nor  surprised.  There  is  not  one 
of  them  who  shouts  an  imprecation.  Policy  is  a part  of  their  daily 
routine.  They  expect  to  lose,  and  lose  with  the  stolidity  of  wooden 
images.  Those  who  are  winners  remain  behind  to  congratulate 
each  other  on  their  good  luck,  to  which  they  are  very  sensitive. 
If  five  numbers  were  guessed  the  player  receives  the  amount  of  his 
stake,  and-  it  is  doubled,  trebled  or  further  multiplied  according  as 
his  guesses  have  approached  the  complete  number  of  thirteen. 
Payments  are  not  made  immediately  after  the  drawing,  but  the 
next  morning.  In  almost  every  tea  and  grocery  store  in  Chinatown 
you  will  find  a record  of  the  drawings  for  a month  back.  This  record 
the  Chinese  gambler  studies  as  the  American  sporting  man  studies 
the  racing  guide.  He  makes  all  sorts  of  calculations  on  the  prob- 
ability of  a repetition  or  change  of  combinations.  If  the  lucky 
numbers  are  all  huddled  together  in  the  card  of  to-day  he  will 
scatter  his  guesses  all  over  the  ticket  of  to-morrow,  or  he  will 
paint  them  in  the  form  of  a cross  or  circle,  as  the  fancy  seizes 
him.  He  is  full  of  whims  and  oddities,  and  is  as  much  a slave  to 
systems  of  play  as  the  American  roulette  or  faro  gambler.  The 
Chinaman  will  talk  freely  with  you  about  hL;  luck.  He  will  tell 
you  that  he  has  not  hit  the  right  numbers  for  a month,  or  that  he 
made  fifty  dollars  a fortnight  ago,  and  he  will  show  you  the  numbers 
he  was  successful  with.  The  dream  of  his  life  is  to  paint  on  his 
ticket  the  very  figures  that  the  Chinaman  behind  the  desk  announ- 
ces in  his  harsh  monotone.  Then  if  his  stake  was  large  he  will 
be  rich  and  may  return  to  China  and  be  mandarin.  He  is  full  of 
reminiscence  of  his  lucky  days,  when  he  won  perhaps  three  hun- 
dred dollars  at  one  clean  sweep.  But  he  will  admit  with  a bland 
smile  and  a show  of  teeth  that  he  has  lost  every  cent  of  it  since  at 
policy.  As  high  as  three  thousand  dollars  in  greenbacks  has  fallen 
at  times  to  the  lucky  Mott  Street  policy-player.  That  means 
nothing  less  than  shaking  the  dust  of  New  York  from  the  feet  and 
travelling  overland  to  San  Francisco  on  the  way  home. 

But  the  Chinamen  who  enrich  themselves  out  of  the  game  of 
policy  are  the  proprietors  of  the  shops.  Profits  fall  into  their  laps 
very  fast,  and  if  they  can  keep  their  dens  open  without  interference 
they  are  reasonably  sure  of  fortune.  The  every-day  gambler  finds 
himself  growing  poorer  and  poorer.  His  blouses  get  to  look 
shabby,  he  neglects  his  person,  and  his  business  goes  to  ruin.  If 


426  “ FONG  TONG.”  I 

he  is  wise  he  moves  his  laundry  to  the  uppcer  part  of  the  city  where 
it  is  a long  cry  to  the  Mott  Street  dens.  / 

The  favorite  game  of  chance  other  thar/i  policy  with  the  Chinese 
is  fong  tong.  This  is  played  on  a table  oif  matting  about  three  feet 
high  and  eight  feet  in  length  for  four  in(  width.  In  the  middle  of 
it  is  a square  drawn  in  thin  black  lines  /of  paint ; each  side  of  the 
square  is  eighteen  inches  long,  and  is  numbered  one,  two,  three  or 
four.  The  player  puts  down  his  mojney,  say  at  the  No.  1 side. 
Then  the  dealer  or  croupier,  as  he  mai  be  termed,  pours  a bowlful 
of  Chinese  copper  coins  on  the  table./  With  a black  stick  he  sepa- 
rates from  the  pile  four  coins  at  a tir?ne,  a number  the  same  as  the 
sides  of  the  square.  He  may  have  removed  twenty  series  of  four 
when  one  coin  remains,  which  signifies  that  a stake  on  the  No.  1 
side  of  the  square  has  won.  If  two  coins  remain,  the  - No.  2 side 
of  the  square  has  won.  If  the  play/er  places  his  chip  or  counter  on 
a corner  of  the  square  he  means  th‘at  he  desires  two  chances  for  his 
stake,  for  he  is  covering  two  side^  of  the  square.  He  can  win  of 
course  by  this  play  less  than  if  h^jj  were  backing  one  chance  out  of 
four.  All  manners  of  combinati/ons  can  be  made  on  this  simple 
square.  j 

A popular  gambling-house  is/  crowded  in  the  late  hours  of  the 
evening.  The  Chinamen  swar  m in  and  surround  the  fong  tong 
table.  The  place  is  fitted  up  (is  rudely  as  an  opium  den,  but  there 
is  more  space  for  breathing,;  more  light,  more  talk  and  laughter. 
When  the  gamblers  stand  andi  sit  in  rows  about  the  table  of  matting 
it  is  possible  for  them  to  place  their  stakes  only  on  one  side  of  the 
square,  but  they  can  design/ate  a play  on  any  side  by  using  a little 
red  pointer  which  they  put  beneath  the  counters.  They  are  proba- 
bly the  most  absorbed  gamblers  in  the  world.  They  hang  on  each 
play  as  if  the  fate  of  the  human  race  hung  on  the  issue,  and  they 
watch  the  croupier  who  parts  the  coins  with  the  most  jealous 
viglance.  If  he  were  to  attempt  to  make  the  partition  with  his  fin- 
gers there  would  be  an  outcry  at  once.  He  must  use  the  black 
stick,  which  he  manages  as  skilfully  as  he  would  the  chop-sticks 
with  a dish  of  rice. 

The  proprietors  of  the  game  not  only  have  the  benefit  of  the  bad 
play  of  their  patrons,  but  exact  a percentage  of  their  winnings. 
Americans  are  not  adlmitted  under  any  pretence.  It  has  been  said 
that  they  have  sat  at  Chinese  gambling  tables  in  Celestial  garments, 
but  no  one  of  sense  will  believe  this,  for  the  Chinaman  is  as  keen- 


/ 


THE  SOCIAL  EVIL. 


427 


eyed  as  a lynx.  And  it  might  go  hard  with  an  American  who  pen- 
etrated into  a gambling  haunt  in  the  dress  of  a Chinaman.  Red 
is  considered  the  lucky  color  by  Chinamen.  In  all  the  decorations 
of  their  gambling  dens,  whether  they  are  illuminated  texts,  rude 
pictures,  or  knots  of  silk,  you  will  never  see  anything  red.  Walls 
and  doors  may  be  painted  blue  or  green,  but  not  red,  for  that  color 
would  surely  mean  ruin  to  the  proprietor. 

The  Chinese,  when  engaged  in  playing  games  of  chance  day  after 
day,  are  just  as  superstitious  as  the  most  ignorant  negro  who  pins 
his  faith  to  the  “whip,”  “gig,”  or  “saddle”  of  policy.  If  on  his 
way  to  try  his  fortune  at  fong  tong  he  meets  a stranger  who  greets 
him  pleasantly,  he  will  have  good  luck.  If  he  visits  of  an  evening 
and  refreshments  are  set  before  him,  he  can  go  to  a gambling, 
house  with  impunity  after  leaving  his  host.  If  he  dreams  of  the 
color  red,  or  sees  a conflagration  or  gorgeous  sunset  in  his  sleep, 
he  will  have  luck  at  the  fong  tong  table.  But  if  his  eye  falls  on  a 
dead  body  during  the  day  he  will  shun  games  of  chance  until  the 
effect  has  passed  off.  If  he  has  had  a quarrel  he  does  not  dare 
to  stake  his  money.  On  his  way  to  play  he  will  never  lend  a cent 
of  his  capital,  for  that  too  would  be  an  evil  omen.  Gold  he  may 
dream  about  and  win,  but  not  so  of  silver.  To  dream  of  blue  is 
also  unfortunate.  And  then  he  has  the  same  queer  notions  while 
at  the  fong  tong  square  as  his  American  brother  at  faro.  If  he  is 
losing  and  an  acquaintance  leans  on  his  shoulder  or  puts  a foot  on 
his  chair  he  strenuously  objects,  believing  that  the  circumstance 
brings  him  bad  luck.  Two  thousand  dollars  is  said  to  be  as  much 
as  a Chinaman  ever  won  at  fong  tong  at  one  sitting  in  New  York. 
From  one  to  eight  hundred  dollars  is  not  an  unusual  winning. 
When  a house  has  gained  the  reputation  of  bringing  big  profits  to 
the  proprietor  straightway  his  rent  is  raised,  and  no  Chinaman 
thinks  it  an  extortion.  The  Celestial  who  can  renounce  the  gamb- 
ling table  after  a turn  of  good  fortune  usually  puts  his  gains 
into  a laundry  and  is  content  to  work  from  daybreak  to  late  at  night 
if  he  can  spend  Sunday  in  Mott  Street. 

The  social  evil  prevails  among  the  Chinese  in  New  York  to  an 
extraordinary  degree,  despite  the  fact  that  the  half  dozen  native 
women  are  wives  of  Chinese  merchants  and  are  not  prostitutes. 
In  Pell  Street  and  vicinity  there  are  three  houses  of  prostitution 
whose  sole  patrons  are  Chinamen.  The  inmates  are  Irish,  Amer- 
ican, German  and  Italian  females  who  have  fallen  from  one  stage 


428 


IMMORAL  WHITE  WOMEN. 


of  degradation  to  another  until  they  are  more  brute  than  human. 
Most  of  them,  sad  to  say,  are  very  young  women.  Their  appear- 
ance is  coarse,  and  their  habits  are  anything  but  clean.  One 
prominent  man  among  the  Chinese  residents  keeps  a disorderly 
house,  in  which  there  are  sixteen  women.  A cousin  of  his  has  been 
overheard  to  say  that  death  would  be  the  lot  of  any  Chinaman  who 
attempted  to  break  up  his  nefarious  traffic. 

But  the  existence  of  these  houses  of  prostitution  is  by  no  means 
the  blackest  feature  of  the  loose  life  of  Mott  Street.  Young  girls 
of  from  fifteen  to  eighteen  years  of  age  are  in  the  habit  of  visiting 
the  laundries  of  their  own  free  will  for  immoral  purposes.  Some 
of  them  not  only  support  themselves  by  this  practice  but  supply 
the  means  of  dissipation  to  some  chosen  male  friend.  It  is  a 
shocking  thing  to  write  down  the  fact  that  there  are  wretches  low 
enough  to  accept  money  from  girls  who  administer  to  the  lusts  of 
Chinamen,  but  such  is  the  fact,  well  known  to  persons  who  live  in 
the  vicinity  of  Mott  Street.  If  contempt  goes  out  to  these  brutal- 
ized females  what  odium  is  black  enough  for  their  white  accom- 
plices. It  is  from  this  latter  class  that  the  worst  element  in  the 
city  is  recruited  ; boys  and  men  who  haven’t  one  vestige  of  man- 
hood, who  are  ready  to  steal,  stab  and  shoot  without  provocation, 
and  who  are  too  drenched  in  moral  iniquity  to  be  held  in  check  ex- 
cept by  the  discipline  of  the  penitentiary. 

The  moon-faced,  gentle  Chinamap  who  plies  his  iron  all  day  and 
slips  through  the  streets  fearful  of  contact  with  the  rude  American 
is  an  easy  victim  to  the  wiles  of  the  immoral  white  woman.  An 
intelligent  Chinaman,  who  dresses  like  a European  and  talks  Eng- 
lish fluently,  once  pointed  out  to  a friend  of  mine  a pert  young 
woman  in  an  elevated  train. 

“That  girl,”,  said  the  Chinaman,  “ who  is  less  than  twenty  years 
of  age,  wheedled  an  acquaintance  of  mine  out  of  eight  hundred 
dollars  which  he  had  got  together  after  years  of  painful  toil  in  his 
laundry.  It  all  went  in  three  months,  and  then  the  girl  went  her 
way  and  the  poor  Chinaman  had  to  begin  the  world  over  again. 
Such  cases  are  not  uncommon.” 

In  New  York  City  there  are  fifteen  Chinamen  who  are  married 
to  American  women.  They  belong  to  the  progressive  class  of 
Chinamen  who  have  learned  English  and  have  abandoned  all  idea 
of  returning  to  the  Flowery  Kingdom.  The  women  in  most  cases 
have  made  excellent  wives,  and  show  as  much  affection  for  their 


new  York’s  joss  house.  429 

offspring  as  if  the  blood  in  their  veins  ran  pure.  The  children  are 
usually  bright  and  active.  They  are  taught  to  speak  English  and 
attend  the  public  schools.  The  ignorant  Chinese  element  who 
raise  the  barrier  of  their  tongue  and  creed  between  themselves  and 
the  hated  Americans  are  bitterly  opposed  to  this  intermarriage. 
Not  only  in  their  minds  does  it  mean  treachery  to  their  country 
and  the  faith  of  their  fathers,  but  it  implies  that  the  husbands  are 
preferred  by  the  white  women  to  themselves.  Jealousy,  by  the  way, 
is  the  ruling  passion  in  the  Chinese  breast.  The  Chinese  consul 
in  New  York  is  of  course  a foe  to  intermarriage,  on  the  ground  that 
the  domicile  of  the  husband  in  America  must  be  the  result. 

Perhaps  the  most  interesting  feature  of  Chinese  life  in  New  York 
is  the  social  intercourse  of  these  people  as  seen  in  the  great  joss 
house,  their  restaurants  and  lounging  places.  . The  joss  house 
used  to  be  a dingy  tenement  on  Mott  Street,  but  a year  ago  the 
tea  and  grocery  merchants,  having  waxed  rich  and  generous,  re- 
solved to  give  their  god  an  elaborate  and  reverential  temple.  The 
distrust  of  Americans  was  so  deep-seated  that  none  of  our  skilled 
workmen  were  thought  worthy  of  being  entrusted  with  the  plainest 
piece  of  upholstery  or  decorative  work.  An  order  for  the  image 
of  the  joss,  his  shrine,  and  all  the  embellishments  that  were  to 
surround  him  was  sent  to  China.  The  cost  of  the  god  and  temple 
was  to  be  eight  hundred  dollars.  In  due  time  he  arrived  and  was 
received  with  imposing  ceremony.  The  Chinese  merchants  leased 
the  second  floor  of  a building  on  Chatham  Street  near  Mott,  and 
the  joss  was  at  once  put  in  possession.  The  room  in  which  he. 
looks  out  from  a screen,  night  and  day,  is  about  thirty  feet  square. 
It  is  gaudily  fitted  up,  and  is  kept  as  neat  as  pious  hands  can 
keep  it.  The  joss  himself  sits  in  a gorgeous  shrine  of  carved  wood, 
mounted  with  gold.  The  setting  is  most  fantastic  and  bewilder- 
ing. Birds,  dragons,  antediluvian  animals,  serpents,  crabs  and 
fishes  burst  out  all  over  the  front  of  the  shrine.  Almost  veiled 
from  view,  the  joss  peers  out  on  the  worshipper.  He  is  painted  on 
carved  wood,  and  is  as  hideous  a deity  as  was  ever  seen  in  the  most 
frenzied  of  opium  dreams.  In  front  of  the  shrine  stands  a table — 
a handsome  one,  with  all  the  appliances  of  worship  upon  it.  Wor- 
ship takes  the  form  of  burning  scented  sticks  and  paper,  which  is 
done  constantly  by  pious  Chinamen  and  by  Chinamen  of  irregular 
habits  when  the  good-will  of  the  joss  is  desired.  Something  very 
curious  on  that  table  is  the  wooden  augur,  as  it  might  be  called. 


43° 


CELESTIAL  RESTAURANTS. 


It  consists  of  two  pieces  of  wood,  each  shaped  like  the  half  of  a 
pear.  When  the  devout  Celestial  wishes  to  know  the  humor  of  the 
joss  towards  an  enterprise  or  journey  he  kneels  before  the  table, 
takes  the  pieces  of  wood  in  his  hands,  and  invoking  the  pleasure  of 
the  god  drops  them  on  the  floor.  If  the  pieces  both  fall  with  the 
flat  sides  uppermost  the  joss  regards  the  enterprise  or  journey 
favorably  ; but  if  the  rounded  sides  show  uppermost  the  joss  is 
inflexibly  opposed  to  the  purpose  of  his  communicant.  Before  the 
god  an  oil  lamp  burns  day  and  night.  It  is  tended  by  the  clerk  of 
the  temple,  who  also  sweeps  and  cleans  the  room.  On  the  walls 
are  painted  mythological  scenes ; among  them  you  may  see  the 
Chinese  Santa  Claus,  a bald-headed  man  of  very  benevolent  aspect. 
Handsomely  illuminated  texts  from  Confucius  in  rich  frames  are 
everywhere,  and  from  their  corners  hang  bows  of  silk  of  colors  con- 
sidered to  be  auspicious  by  the  Chinamen.  Of  course,  red  predom- 
inates. The  costly  furnishing  of  the  room,  however,  is  found  in  the 
magnificent  two-armed  ebony  chairs,  elaborately  carved.  The 
carving  was  done  by  hand,  and  occupied  the  artists  several  years. 
There  are  a dozen  or  more  of  these  chairs  in  a row.  The  great 
merchants  and  teachers  of  the  Chinese  colony  sit  in  them  on  feast 
days  and  occasions  of  solemn  conclave^  Strange  to  say,  the  joss 
house  is  not  only  a place  of  worship,  but  a meeting-hall  for  the 
consideration  of  questions  affecting  the  material  welfare  of  the 
god’s  worshippers.  It  was  not  long  ago  that  the  expediency  of 
printing  laundry  tickets  in  both  American  and  Chinese  characters 
was  discussed  in  the  temple.  The  unprogressive  element  opposed 
the  reform  and  killed  the  measure.  Quite  a number  of  Chinamen 
are  susceptible  to  Christian  teachings  and  are  seldom  seen  in  the 
house  of  the  god.  It  is  said  that  the  respectable  class  among 
them  are  joining  the  Baptist  and  other  churches.  Upwards  of 
two  thousand  Chinese  now  attend  the  Sunday-schools  of  New 
York. 

There  are  three  Chinese  restaurants  on  Mott  Street ; the  chief 
and  best  of  them  is  called  the  King  Flower  House.  Banners  and 
great  bows  of  colored  silk  wave  from  the  second  story  under  the 
name  of  this  place  of  entertainment.  The  restaurant  is  on  the 
second  floor,  and  on  your  way  up  you  pass  a policy  shop  with  its 
wooden  walls  and  cage  of  railings.  Colors  trikes  the  eye  on  the 
first  entrance  into  the  dining-room,  gaudy  words  of  welcome, 
verses  in  strange  characters  and  florid  pictures  of  Chinese  women, 


A NOVEL  BILL  OF  FARE. 


431 


gardens  and  mountains.  On  one  side  an  opium  divan  and  enclosure 
attracts  the  attention.  It  is  encircled  with  painted  railings  that 
run  up  to  the  ceiling,  and  contains  easy  pillows  and  the  bright 
little  sweet-oil  lamps.  Very  high  black  tables  and  chairs  are  set 
about  the  room  and  the  bill  of  fare  in  Chinese  is  pasted  on  the 
wall.  The  kitchen,  with  its  pots,  pans  and  ware,  is  in  plain  view 
through  two  doors  in  the  rear.  In  the  outer  room  half  a dozen 
chickens  are  hanging  to  hooks,  and  beneath  them,  on  a large  table, 
dishes  full  of  liver,  scraps  of  pork,  Chinese  maccaroni  and  fish 
are  to  be  seen.  The  cooks  and  waiters  who  whisk  about  their 
duties  are  conspicuous  for  their  loose  attire  and  their  indifference 
to  cleanliness.  But  you  will  be  safe  in  ordering  a bowl  of  tea, 
which  you  will  find  to  have  an  exquisite  flavor.  The  Chinese 
sweets  and  cakes,  however,  are  sickening  to  the  American  palate. 
The  tea  is  not  brought  in  a pot,  but  in  a bowl  covered  over  with  a 
saucer,  and  a cup  is  brought  with  it.  After  it  is  filled  the  saucer 
is  replaced  on  the  bowl.  No  sugar  or  milk  are  used.  A China- 
man would  be  horrified  at  the  bare  thought.  His  favorite  dish  is 
boiled  chicken  or  roast  pork  cut  into  fragments  and  thrown  into 
a heap  of  a peculiar  maccaroni  which  the  cook  makes  himself. 
With  a pair  of  chop-sticks  the  diner  transfers  the  food  to  his  mouth 
with  a quick  moment  and  great  relish.  He  is  content  with  the 
toughest  kind  of  chicken.  When  he  has  finished  his  repast  he 
may  try  a pype  of  opium  on  the  divan.  While  he  eats,  it  is 
likely  that  his  attendant  will  lie  down  in  the  railed  inclosure  and 
smoke  three  or  four  pipes,  the  while  keeping  up  a running  talk 
with  the  man  at  the  table.  In  the  King  Flower  restaurant  you 
may  see  an  elfish  little  Chinese-American  girl,  who  talks  English 
very  fast  and  is  as  pert  as  you  please.  She  is  a great  favorite  with 
the  Chinamen,  who  always  play  with  her  when  they  come  in.  On 
very  great  occasions — as,  for  instance,  a banquet  to  the  Chinese 
consul — the  tooth  of  the  epicure  is  tempted  with  shark’s  fin,  bird- 
nest  soup  and  mushrooms,  all  imported  from  China. 

The  great  feast  season  is  at  New  Year’s,  which  falls  in  our  Feb- 
ruary. Then  for  ten  days  the  Chinamen  give  themselves  up  to  un- 
restrained revelry,  which  to  our  notions  is  noisy  but  very  orderly. 
Then  the  Celestials  gather  from  all  the  adjoining  cities  and  feast 
on  roast  ducks  and  unpronounceable  Chinese  sweets,  washed  down 
with  their  home  whiskey,  which  no  American  can  taste  without 
nausea.  Drums,  gongs  and  cymbals  wake  the  echoes  of  Mott 


43  2 


AMUSEMENTS. 


Street  every  afternoon  and  evening,  and  fireworks  sizzle  and  flash 
in  the  sky.  Hideous  kites  of  glaring  colors  float  above  the  garrets 
of  the  tenement  houses,  and  Chinamen  and  street  urchins  cheer 
them  as  they' ascend.  The  prominent  merchants  close  up  their 
shops  for  three  days,  and  fling  themselves,  like  boys,  into  the  gen- 
eral celebration.  Our  Christmas  is  also  observed,  but  more  as  a 
season  of  social  calls  than  as  a single  day  of  good  cheer.  The  Chi- 
nese then  pay  visits,  and  leave  cards  nearly  a foot  long  in  immense 
red  envelopes.  Sunday  is  the  conventional  day  for  social'  gather- 
ings. A Chinaman  would  think  he  had  passed  it  ill  if  he  did  not 
journey  to  Mott  Street,  smoke  his  cigar  in  the  store  of  his  frier.d, 
the  tea  merchant,  chat  about  old  times,  and  dine  at  one  of  the  res- 
taurants. On  Sunday,  too,  he  makes  his  purchases  for  the  follow- 
ing week.  His  critics  say  that  he  really  appears  in  Mott  Street 
only  to  play  policy  and  fong  tong  and  to  smoke  opium,  and  there 
is  a shade  of  truth  in  the  assertion. 

The  Chinese,  on  the  whole,  if  allowed  to  practise  their  vices  un- 
molested are  orderly  members  of  the  community.  That  the  ma- 
jority of  them  are  incurable  gambles  and  beings  of  a low  moral 
tone  is  unfortunately  true,  but  they  mind  their  own  business  as 
they  understand  it  and  are  never  guilty  of  ruffianism.  Even  among 
themselves  the  bully  and  swashbuckler  is  a rare  exception.  They 
never  appear  in  the  police  courts  except  as  complainants  against 
ruffians  who  have  damaged  their  property  or  brutally  assaulted  them. 
While  they  are  absurdly  suspicious  of  the  most  amiable  American 
they  are  very  sensitive  to  kindness,  and  display  the  utmost  good 
temper  in  return.  They  are  keenly  afraid  of  ridicule,  and  always 
suspect  it  in  gestures  or  expressions  that  they  do  not  understand. 
To  laugh  or  jibe  at  a Chinaman  is  to  earn  his  undying  enmity. 
He  would  never  consent  to  let  an  artist  draw  his  picture  from  the 
dread  that  it  would  find  its  way  into  a comic  journal. 

In  their  intercourse  with  one  another  they  exhibit  one  serious  im- 
perfection of  character.  They  are  as  jealous  as  women,  and 
nearly  all  their  wrangles  may  be  laid  to  this  fact.  If  a Chinaman 
is  unusually  successful  in  business,  love  or  pleasure  on  Mott  Street, 
he  is  never  in  haste  to  announce  it  to  his  almond-eyed  friends.  It 
is  the  shiftless  Chinaman  who  creeps  along  the  even  tenor  of  his 
way  who  does  not  raise  enemies  on  even  s;de. 

There  are,  as  has  been  said,  between  si*  and  seven  thousand 
Chinese  in  this  city.  The  work  of  religious  and  humane  societies 


RESPECTABLE  MONGOLIANS. 


4 33 


among  them  has  worked  great  changes  in  the  last  few  years.  To- 
day the  respectable  Chinaman  goes  to  Sunday-school  and  puts  on 
American  clothing  without  fear  of  persecution,  and  he  has  become 
ashamed  of  gambling.  There  is  an  earnest  wish  and  effort  among 
them  to  stamp  this  evil  out,  and  by  living  moral  lives  to  prove 
themselves  worthy  of  the  good-will  of  Americans  and  the  privilege 
of  citizenship. 

28 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 


ABORTIONISTS. — MADAM  RESTELL’S  PALACE  OF  WICKEDNESS. — A 
RAID  BY  ANTHONY  COMSTOCK. — SUICIDE  IN  A BATH  TUB. — 
THE  NAKED  CORPSE  FOUND  IN  A TRUNK. — A SHRIEK  WHICH 
STARTLED  THE  COURT. — “ FOR  GOD’S  SAKE,  SPARE  MY  POOR 
FRANK.” 

In  a luxurious  residence,  built  in  the  most  fashionable  part  of 
the  city,  and  equalled  in  magnificence  by  few  structures  which 
wealth  and  taste  have  erected,  was  ended  in  April  9,  1878,  the  ca- 
reer of  the  most  infamous  female  criminal  ever  known  in  New 
York.  She  was  found  lying  in  her  bath-tub,  which  was  partly 
filled  with  warm  water  dyed  crimson  by  the  blood  which  flowed 
from  the  woman’s  neck.  She  had  ^severed  her  jugular  vein,  and 
her  weapon,  a huge  carving-knife,  lay  blood-stained  on  the  bath- 
room floor. 

The  woman  who  thus  ended  her  life  was  Madam  Rested,  known 
to  the  police  as  the  most  famous  abortionist  this  country  has  ever 
seen.  Forty  years  of  infamy  were  behind  her  ; how  small  and 
insignificant  the  crime  of  suicide  must  have  appeared  ! Forty 
ye?  rs  nourishing  the  most  inhuman  of  vices  ! Alas  ! how  many 
murders  must  that  female  fiend  account  for  on  that  dreadful  day 
of  reckoning  ! How  many  mothers  shall  rise  up  in  that  day  and 
call  her — damned!  She  was  the  very  personification  of  infamy, 
finder  the  mask  of  wealth  and  refinement  she  encouraged  young 
women  to  offer  themselves  up  on  the  altar  of  lust,  and  she  made 
vice  easy  for  those  who  wished  to  follow  it.  Her  patrons  from 
the  wealth  and  fashion  of  the  metropolis  flocked  to  her,  and 
they  laid  their  money  at  her  feet.  Her  services  she  knew  were 
invaluable  ; she  could  charge  what  she  wished  and  it  was  paid. 
A young  woman  comes  to  her  to  prevent  the  disgrace  which  would 
fall  after  the  exposure  of  indiscretions.  A wife  of  fashion  and  so- 
ciety comes  because  she  is  too  cowardly  and  too  selfish  to  perform 
her  duty  as  a mother.  The  little  one  who  would  have  brightened 
her  household  never  knows  what  it  is  to  breathe  the  air  of  life. 


434 


A FOUL  CREATURE. 


435 


Man,  too,  comes  to  this  foul  creature  and  implores  her  attention  to 
the  young  girl  he  has  ruined.  To  them  all  the  hardened  reprobate 
appears  courteous  and  sympathetic.  Sure  of  her  fee  she  under 
takes  the  filthy  work. 

The  career  of  Madam  Restell  is  like  a horrible  romance.  She 
was  born  in  England,  and  married  at  the  age  of  sixteen.  Her  real 
name  was  not  Restell ; she  got  that  in  Paris  and  brought  it  back 
with  her.  Her  first  husband  was  a worthless  fellow,  and  he  died 
a few  years  after  the  marriage.  The  widow  came  to  this  country 


MADAM  RESTELL. 
(From  a Photograph.) 


and  began  earning  her  living  as  a dressmaker  in  Greenwich 
Street.  She  was  handsome,  bright  and  well  informed.  In  the 
course  of  her  experience  as  a needle-woman  she  became  acquainted 
with  many  nice  people.  One  family  in  particular  were  so  pleased 
with  her  that  they  induced  her  to  go  abroad  with  them  as  govern- 
ess for  their  children.  Paris  captivated  her  and  she  decided  to 
make  it  her  home.  She  fell  in  with  a quack  doctress  who  pro- 
fessed to  have  certain  secret  remedies  whose  properties  were  mar- 


43^ 


MADAM  RESTFLL. 


vellous.  Madam  Rested  thought  she  would  like  to  come  back  to 
America  and  grow  rich  out  of  the  weaknesses  of  the  citizens  of 
New  York  as  her  Parisian  friend  had  out  of  the  weaknesses  of  the 
French  metropolis.  So  back  she  came,  and  with  her  certain  rec- 
ipes for  producing  abortions.  To  assist  her  in  her  cold-blooded 
scheme  she  married  Charles  R.  Lohman,  better  known  as  Dr. 
Mauricna,  an  abortionist. 

This  was  in  1837.  She  took  up  her  residence  on  Greenwich 
Street,  near  Cortlandt,  and  advertised  as  a “ physician.”  New 
York  was  more  Puritanic  in  those  days  than  it  is  now,  and,  I am 
glad  to  say,  such  an  occupation  was  much  more  repulsive  then  to 
the  average  citizen  than  it  is  now.  Accordingly  this  new  abor- 
tionist discovered  that  she  had  obstacles  to  contend  with,  and  in 
those  early  days  she  learned  to  get  influence  as  well  as  shekels. 
She  was  frequently  arrested,  but  each  time  the  indictments  would 
be  suppressed  by  a liberal  use  of  both  money  and  influence.  But 
in  1847  she  was  not  so  fortunate.  Joseph  C.  Cook,  a manufact- 
urer, had  seduced  a young  girl  employed  in  his  factory,  named 
Maria  Bodine.  To  avoid  any  unpleasant  consequences  he  had 
taken  the  girl  to  Madam  Rested'  for  treatment.  The  young 
woman  was  attended  to  and  went  home.  Afterward  she  became 
ill  and  confessed  everything. 

Upon  the  facts  thus  gained  were  based  a complaint  and  warrant 
against  the  abortionist.  She  was  arrested,  tried  and  convicted, 
but  not  without  a struggle.  She  brought  into  play  every  weapon 
she  could  use.  She  invoked  influence,  she  employed  eminent 
counsel  and  she  spent  money  freely;  but  it  was  all  in  vain.  She 
went  to  the  Island  to  spend  a year.  She  behaved  like  no  ordinary 
prisoner,  however,  in  her  island  home.  Money  bought  her  luxuries 
here  as  it  had  elsewhere,  and  she  lived  in  handsome  style  for  a 
convict.  Her  husband  was  with  her  frequently. 

When  her  term  here  had  expired  she  came  back  to  her  old  quar- 
ters on  Greenwich  Street,  and  carried  on  her  business  more  vigor- 
ously than  ever.  She  also  became  more  notorious  than  ever. 
Archbishop  Hughes  denounced  her  from  the  pulpit  of  St.  Patrick’s 
Cathedral.  Later  in  her  life  she  got  even  with  him.  When  the 
site  of  the  new  cathedral  was  bought,  and  the  archbishop  de- 
signed to  build  the  Episcopal  residence  at  Fifty-second  Street  and 
Fifth  Avenue,  Madam  Restell  stepped  in,  and,  after  running  the 
property  up  to  a price  beyond  its  value,  bought  it. 


SUICIDE  OF  MADAM  RESTELL. 


438 


HER  SUICIDE. 


Here  was  built  the  magnificent  house  in  which  the  female  abor- 
tionist was  found  dead  on  the  morning  of  April  9,  1878.  It  stands 
there  to  this  day.  Handsomely  built,  luxuriously  furnished,  it  was 
a model  of  comfort  and  ease.  Here  she  not  only  sold  articles  and 
instruments  for  procuring  abortions  and  preventing  conceptions, 
but  she  received  as  patients  in  her  house  such  women  as  desired 
treatment  and  could  afford  the  expense.  Her  charges  were  ex- 
orbitant, but  as  her  patrons  were  from  the  wealthy  classes  she  was 
able  to  accumulate  an  enormous  fortune.  At  her  death  it  was  es- 
timated that  she  was  worth  a million  dollars. 

The  immediate  cause  of  her  suicide  was  undoubtedly  her  arrest 
by  Anthony  Comstock,  who  in  searching  her  house  procured  evi- 
dence enough  both  in  persons  and  things  to  secure  her  conviction. 
Her  lawyers  alleged  that  the  knowledge  of  this  and  the  memory  of 
her  many  dark  crimes  so  weighed  on  her  mind  as  to  make  her  in- 
sane, but  there  seems  to  have  been  too  much  method  for  madness 
in  her  suicide.  Her  property  was  divided  between  her  grandson 
and  granddaughter,  the  latter  of  whom  married  a young  lawyer  of 
this  city.  A woman  was  driven  up  to  the  door  of  the  Hudson 
River  Railroad  on  the  afternoon  of  August  26,  1871.  She  ner- 
vously alighted,  walked  rapidly  to  the  baggage  master’s  room,  and 
asked  to  have  a certain  trunk  checked  to  Chicago.  She  learned 
that  no  train  left  until  night,  and  then  she  disappeared  from  the 
neighborhood  of  the  depot. 

The  trunk  which  she  had  spoken  of  was  taken  care  of  in  its 
turn.  The  baggage  men  took  hold  of  it  and  were  carrying  it  to  a 
pile  of  trunks  destined  for  the  West,  when  they  noticed  a horrible 
stench.  Their  suspicions  of  something  wrong  were  at  once 
aroused.  A cold  chisel  was  procured  and  the  attempt  was  made 
to  wrench  the  top  of  the  trunk  off.  After  much  prying  the 
cover  was  raised.  The  baggage  men  drew  back  as  if  shot.  A 
sickening  sight  met  their  glance  and  a foul  odor  filled  the  room. 
There  in  the  trunk  was  disclosed  the  naked  body  of  a full  grown 
woman.  It  lay  on  its  right  side,  with  the  legs  doubled  up  and  the 
head  bent  forward  so  that  the  face  and  knees  almost  met.  A 
lovely  mass  of  golden  hair  tumbled  in  confusion  over  features 
whose  beauty  was  not  entirely  concealed  by  the  lines  which  pain 
and  suffering  had  drawn  thereon.  The  corpse  was  slightly  decom- 
posed. Here  was  a mystery — an  ugly  burden  which  the  baggage 
masters  wished  to  have  removed  as  soon  as  possible.  They  called 


THE  TRUNK  AT  THE  GRAND  CENTRAL  DEPOT.  439 

in  the  police.  I saw,  as  soon  as  I heard  of  it,  that  this  was  an  ex- 
ceptional crime,  and  accordingly  I put  my  best  detectives  at  work 
to  ferret  out  the  perpetrators. 

It  was  necessary  first  to  find  the  truckman  who  had  brought  the 
Irunk  to  the  depot.  This  would  have  been  no  easy  task  in  itself, 
and  unless  this  link  in  the  chain  of  evidence  had  been  found,  I 
fear  it  might  have  been  impossible  for  us  to  solve  the  mystery  of 


the  cramped  corpse.  Officers  were  immediately  detailed  in  search 
of  the  truckman  and  all  the  customary  steps  were  taken  to  get 
upon  his  track.  But  our  labors  in  this  direction  were  lightened 
by  the  voluntary  coming  forward  of  the  man  himself.  News  of 
the  matter  reaching  him  in  some  way  or  other,  he  came  to  Cap- 
tain Brennan  and  frankly  told  him  all  he  knew  about  the  mys- 
tery. It  was  soon  found  that  the  man  himself  was  innocent  of 


440 


ARREST  OF  THE  ABORTIONIST. 


any  conspiracy  that  might  be  behind  the  matter,  and  he  readily 
told  us  from  what  house  he  had  brought  the  body.  This,  he  said, 
was  No.  687  Second  Avenue.  The  house  was  carefully  watched 
by  my  detectives,  who  finally  thought  they  had  evidence  enough 
upon  which  to  arrest  the  proprietor.  Their  suggestion  was  car- 
ried out,  and  very  soon  Dr.  Ascher,  alias  Rosenzweig,  a notorious 
abortionist,  found  himself  behind  prison  bars. 

The  body  in  the  trunk  was  identified  as  that  of  Alice  Augusta 
Bowlsby,  a charming  and  beautiful  young  woman,  who  had  resided 


ALICE  AUGUSTA  BOWLSBY. 


(From  a Photograph.) 

with^  her  parents  in  Paterson,  N.  J.  Pieces  of  underclothing 
marked  with  the  initials  “A.  A.  B.”  were  found  on  Rosenzweig ’s 
premises.  When  this  discovery  was  made  known  the  excitement  in 
Paterson  was  very  great.  A young  man  named  Conkling,  with 
whom  the  unfortunate  girl  had  kept  company,  put  a bullet  through 
his  brain  in  order  that  he  might  die  rather  than  face  the  ordeal 
and  disgrace  of  appearing  as  a witness. 

Rosenzweig’s  trial  came  on  in  the  following  October.  Public 
interest  was  intense.  All  through  the  trial  the  court-room  was 
crowded  with  spectators  eager  to  hear  the  disgusting  testimony 


“ GUILTY.”  441 

which  came  from  witnesses.  Rosenzweig  ’s  lawyers  worked  hard 
for  their  client.  The  result  of  the  trial  was  extremely  uncertain. 
Finally,  the  opposing  counsel  had  offered  their  argument,  the  judge 
had  delivered  his  charge  and  the  jury  filed  out  of  the  room. 
Among  those  who  awaited  its  verdict  was  Rosenzweig’s  little 
daughter,  about  ten  years  old,  who  was  very  fondly  attached  to  her 
father  and  had  remained  in  court  during  the  whole  of  his  trial. 

After  a reasonable  length  of  time  there  was  a stir  near  the  door, 
a buzz  ran  round  the  room,  followed  by  a silence  like  death,  and 
the  jurors  walked  in  single  file  to  their  seats. 

“ Have  you  agreed  upon  a verdict  ? ” asked  the  clerk. 

Rosenzweig  held  his  head  down,  but  his  little  daughter’s  was 
raised  in  expectation. 

“We  have,”  returned  the  foreman.  “We  find  the  prisoner 
guilty.” 

As  he  pronounced  the  word  “ guilty  ” an  unearthly  shriek  pierced 
the  room,  startling  the  court  and  terrifying  the  spectators,  and 
Rosenzweig’s  daughter  fell  to  the  floor  unconscious. 

The  prisoner  was  sentenced  to  seven  years  in  the  State  prison. 
Subsequently  a new  trial  was  granted  him,  which  never  took 
place,  in  consequence  of  a change  in  the  law. 

A messenger  came  to  Inspector  Murray  on  February  10,  1879, 
and  told  him  that  a woman  was  dying  from  malpractice  at  No.  16 1 
East  Twenty-seventh  Street.  The  house  was  a suspicious  one,  for  it 
was  known  to  be  the  residence  of  Mrs.  Bertha  Burger,  an  abortionist. 
Inspector  Murray  notified  Coroner  Flanagan,  who  with  his  deputy, 
and  with  Sergeant  Meekim  and  Roundsman  O’Toole,  went  to  the 
house  and  made  an  investigation.  A sad  and  wicked  state  of 
affairs  was  brought  to  light.  Cora  Sammis,  a girl,  young,  beautiful 
and  not  long  since  pure  and  innocent,  was  the  woman  who  had 
been  said  to  be  dying.  She  lay  in  a poorly  furnished  room  and 
was  surrounded  by  no  comforts.  Very  different  was  the  house  of 
this  abortionist  from  that  of  Madam  Rested.  Here  were  no  soft 
carpets,  luxurious  beds  and  chairs,  with  servants  to  heed  every  wish 
and  cooks  to  tempt  the  appetite  with  delicacies.  Mrs.  Burger’s 
patients  were  women  in  lower  grades  of  life  than  Madam  Restell’s, 
and  they  could  not  pay  such  large  fees.  No  wonder  then  that 
they  did  not  receive  such  good  care. 

Six  months  before  that  night  when  police  officers  raided  this 
house  to  save  a dying  soul,  Cora  Sammis  had  been  a bright  and 


442 


“poor  frank.” 


pretty  country  girl  at  Northport,  Long  Island.  Her  father  was  a 
well-to-do  coal  and  lumber  dealer.  Cora  went  to  Sunday-school, 
and  not  the  shadow  of  a suspicion  was  ever  breathed  against  her. 
In  the  summer  time  she  met  many  New  Yorkers  who  came  there 
to  spend  the  hot  months,  and  among  the  number  was  one  Frank 
Cosgrove,  who  was  employed  in  an  office  at  No.  2 Burling  Slip. 
Cosgrove  was  taken  with  the  girl’s  charms.  Acquaintance  ripened 
into  friendship  and  friendship  into  love.  Passion  played  a part 
too  and  this  was  what  caused  Cora  Sammis’s  ruin  and  death.  In 
December  Cora  came  to  Brooklyn  to  visit  an  aunt,  and  Cosgrove 
saw  a great  deal  of  her  there.  To  prevent  an  exposure  of  her 
weakness  it  was  arranged  that  she  should  go  to  the  abortionist, 
Mrs.  Burger. 

She  went,  and  the  abominable  practice  which  this  ignorant 
woman  brought  to  bear  upon  her  case  made  her  so  ill  that  she  died. 
Her  last  words  to  the  officers  who  had  come  to  her  rescue  were : 

“ For  God’s  sake,  spare  my  poor  Frank  ! ” 

“ Poor  Frank  ” was  saved  from  punishment  by  law,  but  not  from 
the  misery  and  remorse  of  his  own  soul. 

Mrs.  Burger  was  arrested,  as  were  also  her  married  daughter, 
Rachel  Davis,  who  lived  in  the  same  house,  and  Jennie  Williams  and 
Minnie  Russell,  who  were  supposed  to  act  largely  as  Mrs.  Burger’s 
agents.  Much  evidence  besides  that  yielded  by  Cora  Sammis’s 
case  came  to  light,  and  showed  for  what  degrading  purposes  this 
house  was  used.  I rejoice  to  be  able  to  say  that  this  worse  than 
female  devil  suffered  the  penalty  of  her  crimes  in  prison. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 


FRAUDS  ON  INSURANCE  COMPANIES. — A NOTABLE  INSTANCE. — ERNST 
ULING  AND  HIS  CLEVER  SCHEMES. — CONVULSIONS  AND  SOAP. — 
A LIVELY  CORPSE. — WHAT  THE  COFFIN  CONTAINED. — THE  LAST 
SAD  RITES  OVER  NINETEEN  BPJCKS. — HID  UNDER  THE  BED. — A 
FULL  CONFESSION. — FINK,  THE  UNDERTAKER. — STATE’S  PRISON 
FOR  BOTH. 

Frauds  on  insurance  companies  have  but  rarely  come  under 
my  observation,  but  one  which  occurred  in  1874  is  certainly  de- 
serving of  mention.  The  organization  sought  to  be  defrauded  was 
the  Merchants’  Life  Insurance  Co.,  of  this  city,  of  which  Mr.  B.  F. 
Beekman  was  president  at  the  time.  The  individual  charged 
with  the  fraud  was  a Hungarian  doctor  named  Ernst  Uling,  alias 
De  Bagnicki,  who  had  just  previously  been  accused  of  malpractice 
on  a woman  by  the  name  of  Louise  Germs,  with  whom  he  had  a 
mutual  policy  of  $10,000  in  the  company  in  question.  It  was  al- 
leged by  Uling  that  the  woman,  to  whom  he  professed  to  be  de- 
votedly attached,  died  while  under  treatment  for  a uterine  com- 
plaint ; and  he  attempted  to  collect  the  money  on  the  policy.  The 
officers  of  the  company  were  somewhat  suspicious  that  all  was 
not  as  it  should  be,  and  inquiries  were  quickly  set  on  foot  to  sift 
the  matter  to  the  bottom.  The  coffin  in  which  Louise  was  said  to 
have  been  buried  was  exhumed  from  the  Union  Cemetery,  and  taken 
to  the  New  York  Morgue,  where  a Dr.  Leo  was  to  hold  a post-mortem 
examination.  The  fastenings  of  the  coffin  were  set  in  white  lead, 
and  were  removed  with  difficulty;  and  when  the  lid  was  opened 
nineteen  bricks,  wrapped  in  newspapers  and  secured  in  place  by 
laths,  were  found  symmetrically  and  tightly  packed  in  the 
bottom  of  the  coffin,  which  was  a very  handsome  one.  The  usual 
trimmings  were  unsoiled,  and  there  was  no  indication  that  a body 
had  ever  been  placed  in  it.  In  view  of  this  discovery,  the  police 
authorities  were  communicated  with,  and  Superintendent  Matsell 
immediately  ordered  that  Uling  be  arrested,  together  with  Chas. 
Fink,  the  undertaker.  The  latter  upon  being  taken  into  custody, 

443 


444 


LOUISE  GERMS. 


stated  that  the  coffin  was  ordered  by  Uling,  and  that  he  had  seen 
the  body  of  a woman  placed  in  it,  he  himself  screwing  down  the 
lid.  The  plate  on  the  coffin  bore  the  following  inscription  : 

“ Louise  Greimet,  died  March  30,  1874,  aged  twenty-three  years, 
three  months.  ” 

Detectives  Tilley  and  Heidelburg  were  detailed  to  work  up  the 
case,  and  they  at  once  decided  to  call  at  the  apartments  formerly 
occupied  by  Uling,  at  No.  160  Eldridge  St.  Knocking  at  the  door 
produced  no  response,  and  the  officers  were  trying  to  open  one  of 
the  doors  with  a key,  when  a quaint,  livid-featured  old  lady,  appar- 
ently about  sixty-five  years  of  age,  together  with  a long,  ungainly 
lad,  made  their  appearance.  The  female  said  her  name  was 
Marie  de  Bagnicki,  while  the  lad  was  her  nephew — Aurel  de  Szent- 
Ivanyi.  Both  were  Hungarians,  and  could  speak  but  very  little 
English.  In  the  apartments  were  a quantity  of  clothes,  linen,  and 
documents,  which  were  being  packed  up  ready  for  removal.  The 
woman  said  these  things  all  belonged  to  Uling,  notwithstanding  the 
fact  that  the  linen  was  marked  “ E.  B.  ” When  questioned  con- 
cerning the  death  of  Louise  Germs,  the  old  lady  became  very  ret- 
icent, but  finally  said  that  if  the  officers  went  to  Mrs.  Janitzky, 
No.  228  East  Twenty-fifth  St.,  they  might  learn  something  about 
Uling.  Tilley  and  Heidelburg  accordingly  went  to  the  address 
given,  but  were  informed  by  Mrs.  Janitzky  that  she  knew  nothing 
about  Uling.  During  a search  of  the  premises,  however,  the 
officers  entered  a small  hall  bed-room  in  the  rear  of  the  second 
floor.  Upon  the  bed  was  a man’s  hat,  and  looking  underneath 
the  couch  Uling  was  discovered,  in  his  shirt  sleeves  and  crouched 
up  in  a most  uncomfortable  position.  He  was  quickly  pulled  from 
his  hiding-place.  At  the  station-house  he  was  searched  and  the 
officers  found  on  him  a number  of  papers,  amongst  which  was  a 
portrait  of  the  alleged  dead  woman,  Louise  Germs.  The  next  day, 
following  up  a clew  furnished  by  some  memoranda  found  on 
Uling,  the  detectives  visited  the  house  of  Mrs.  Wechsler,  No.  133 
One  Hundred  and  Ninth  St.  They  were  admitted  by  Mrs.  Wechs- 
ler, and  Detective  Tilley,  while  entering,  saw  a woman  peep  out 
at  the  area  gate.  He  took  a second  glance  at  her  and  immediately 
recognized  her  as  the  original  of  the  photograph  found  in  Uling’s 
possession.  The  officers  informed  Mrs.  Wechsler  of  the  nature  of 
their  errand,  and  Louise  Germs,  alias  Greimet,  was  called  into 
the  parlor  and  placed  under  arrest.  At  first  she  took  her  arrest  in 


SIMULATING  DEATH. 


445 


a very  nonchalant  manner,  saying  she  had  learned  all  about  the 
case  from  the  newspapers ; but  on  the  way  to  the  station-house  she 
burst  into  tears  and  lamented  bitterly  the  result  of  her  conduct, 
as  also  the  pain  it  would  cause  her  father,  who  believed  her 
to  be  dead.  At  police  headquarters  she  made  a full  confession 
of  the  whole  conspiracy.  Her  story  was  that  when  the  insurance 
policy  was  taken  out  by  Uling,  she,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that 
she  was  examined  by  the  physicians  of  the  insurance  company, 
believed  she  was  passing  for  another  woman,  who  was  to  simulate 
death,  and  thus  enable  Uling  to  draw  the  amount  of  the  policy. 
In  December  of  the  previous  year  (1873),  she  was  very  intimate 
with  Uling,  and  became  sick.  Her  illness  was  a serious  one, 
and  Uling  called  in  a Dr.  Kranowitch,  who  prescribed  for  her. 
The  following  March  she  had  entirely  recovered,  and  Uling 
offered  her  $2500  if  she  would  simulate  death  and  enable  him  to 
obtain  the  amount  of  the  policy  from  the  insurance  company.  He 
told  her  exactly  what  to  do,  and  then  called  in  Dr.  Kurtz,  who 
found  her  apparently  in  strong  convulsions  and  foaming  at  the 
mouth.  Dr.  Kurtz  pronounced  her  case  a desperate  one  and  left. 
As  soon  as  the  door  closed  on  him  she  jumped  out  off  bed  and 
burst  into  a hearty  laugh.  She  had  placed  a piece  of  soap  in 
her  mouth  to  produce  the  froth,  and  had  acted  so  well  as  to  de- 
ceive Dr.  Kurtz,  who  was  a reputable  practitioner.  On  March  29, 
Uling  made  preparations  for  the  funeral,  giving  Fink  the  order  for 
the  coffin,  which  was  taken  to  No.  160  Eldridge  Street,  and  placed 
on  trestles  by  an  assistant,  who  then  went  away,  leaving  Fink  to 
place  the  supposed  corpse  in  its  last  resting-place.  Louise,  who 
was  lying  on  a bed  with  a sheet  over  her,  then  jumped  up  and 
frightened  Fink  considerably.  Uling  took  him  on  one  side  and  told 
him  he  had  a pecuniary  interest  in  Louise’s  death;  that  he  had 
mistaken  syncope  for  dissolution,  and  that  his  affairs  were  so  em- 
barrassed he  was  obliged  to  make  it  appear  that  she  had  died. 
He  offered  Fink  $250  to  assist  him,  and  after  some  haggling  he 
agreed.  Mrs.  Marie  de  Bagnicki  then  brought  in  the  bricks,  and 
when  they  had  been  arranged  in  the  coffin,  Fink  went  back  to  his 
shop,  procured  two  strong  slats,  and  fastened  them  with  screws, 
so  that  the  bricks  could  not  be  displaced.  Then  the  coffin  was 
sealed  up  with  white  lead  as  before  described.  Louise  Germs 
changed  her  name  to  “ Marie  Ley  ” and  took  service  with  a fam- 
ily in  Orchard  Street,  where  she  remained  two  days.  The  “ fu- 


446 


uling’s  career. 


neral  ” took  place  on  April  i,  at  Union  Cemetery.  This  was  all 
she  knew ; she  was  completely  in  the  dark  as  to  who  attended  the 
funeral  of  the  nineteen  bricks. 

Before  being  taken  to  court,  Louise  was  standing  in  the  corri- 
dor when  Uling  and  Fink  were  brought  out  of  their  cells.  The 
former  made  a sign  for  her  to  be  silent  and  then  sat  down  in  a 
manner  suggestive  of  indifference  to  his  fate.  Fink  acknowledged 
the  truth  of  Louise’s  story,  and  appeared  much  cast  down  at  his 
position. 

In  appearance  Uling  was  apparently  about  forty  years  of  age, 
stoutly  built,  florid  countenance,  and  passably  good  looking. 
Louise  was  a rather  interesting  little  woman,  about  twenty-five 
years  of  age,  with  decided  German  features.  She  had  small  eyes, 
high  cheek  bones  and  forehead,  a pale  complexion,  and  a small, 
pretty  mouth. 

As  far  as  could  be  ascertained,  Uling  belonged  to  a noble  Hun- 
garian family,  and  once  held  a commission  in  the  Hungarian  army. 
In  1845  his  position  was  one  of  affluence,  but  he  appeared  to 
have  spent  all  his  money.  He  was  well  educated,  and  must  have 
studied  medicine  thoroughly.  It  was  presumed  that  in  1852  his 
fortune  became  exhausted,  and  after  visiting  England  and  France, 
where  he  practised  medicine,  he  came  to  this  country  in  1854. 
His  career  in  New  York  was  a checkered  one.  In  May,  1861,  he 
was  tried  in  the  Court  of  General  Sessions  for  swindling  Elizabeth 
Altenhein,  of  No.  85  West  Seventeenth  Street,  out  of  $417,  but 
was  acquitted.  The  following  year  he  was  tried  on  a charge  of 
forgery,  but  a nol.  pros,  was  entered.  This  prosecution  arose  out 
of  a patent  held  by  Uling,  for  which  letters  patent  were  granted 
in  England.  The  facts  of  the  case  are  not  obtainable,  but  the 
charge  was  instigated  by  Uling’s  agent  in  Paris,  where  the  inven- 
tion was  favorably  received  by  Dr.  Ricord  and  the  faculty  of  the 
Hospital  Beaujon.  Uling  had  also  been  “ in  trouble  ” in  regard 
to  debts  contracted  with  various  parties,  and  papers  found  upon 
him  at  the  time  of  his  arrest  showed  that  for  some  years  prior  to 
1874  his  practice  had  been  far  from  reputable.  Only  $50  was 
found  in  his  possession,  and  as  no  money  or  valuables  were  found 
at  his  house,  it  is  fair  to  conclude  that  he  was  not  in  very  good 
circumstances.  After  these  and  other  papers  had  been  examined, 
Fink  was  taken  to  Bagnicki’s  cell  and  identified  him  as  the  person 
who  ordered  and  superintended  the  funeral  of  Louise  Germs. 


MARIE  DE  BAGNICKI. 


447 


Fink  stoutly  maintained  that  when  the  coffin  was  taken  to  No.  160 
Eldridge  Street  he  saw  the  dead  body  of  a woman.  Bagnicki 
asked  him  to  help  put  her  in  the  coffin.  Fink  caught  hold  of  her 
legs  and  noticed  that  they  were  very  limp.  He  remarked  to  the 
doctor  that  the  body  was  scarcely  cold,  and  asked  how  long  the 
woman  had  been  dead.  Bagnicki  replied  : “ Twenty-four  hours.” 
Fink  thereupon  closed  the  lid  of  the  coffin,  screwed  it  down,  and 
receiving  $40  on  account  of  a bill  of  $50,  left.  He  was  shown  the 
portrait  of  Louise  Germs,  but  could  not  positively  identify  it  as 
that  of  the  woman  he  put  in  the  coffin.  At  the  funeral  there  was 
a woman  closely  veiled,  but  she  remained  in  the  carriage  the 
whole  time.  She  resembled  the  portrait  of  Louise  Germs,  but 
Fink  thought  that  her  features  were  longer  and  broader.  Then 
Mme.  Marie  de  Bagnicki  was  questioned,  and  frankly  acknowl- 
edged that  she  was  the  wife  of  Bagnicki ; but  on  account  of  her 
age  sfce  had  given  him  permission  to  marry  again  whenever  he 
thought  proper.  She  identified  the  portrait  of  Louise  Germs  as 
that  of  a person  she  had  seen,  but  she  pretended  not  to  know  her 
name  or  to  have  had  any  acquaintance  with  her.  She  remembered 
that  one  of  Bagnicki’s  patients  died  at  160  Eldridge  Street ; she 
knew  this  to  be  true,  as  she  went  into  the  room  and  saw  the  corpse 
laid  out  on  a bed.  She  did  not  know  the  deceased  woman’s  name. 
The  reason  why  Bagnicki  adopted  the  name  of  Uling  was  because 
his  real  name  was  so  difficult  of  pronunciation.  When  told  that 
her  husband  had  been  arrested,  a twitching  of  the  corners  of  the 
mouth  and  a momentary  spasm  were  the  only  signs  of  nervousness 
that  she  exhibited  during  the  examination  to  which  she  was  sub- 
jected. When  asked  what  induced  her  to  pack  up  her  husband’s 
clothes  and  papers,  she  replied  she  thought  from  what  had  been 
published  in  the  newspapers  that  he  had  left  the  city  and  that  she 
would  have  to  seek  a new  home.  She  also  declared  that  she  could 
not  recollect  where  she  last  saw  Bagnicki. 

The  coffin  containing  the  nineteen  bricks  was  placed  on  view  in 
the  day-room  of  the  detectives’  office,  where  it  was  an  objeqt  of 
curiosity  to  the  police  commissioners  and  several  hundred  private 
individuals.  Louise  was  brought  from  her  cell  and  laughed  heart- 
ily at  seeing  what  was  supposed  to  be  her  last  resting-place, 
remarking  that  she  had  no  doubt  but  that  there  were  many  people 
in  New  York  who  wouldn’t  object  to  purchasing  the  bricks  as 
relics  at  high  prices. 


448 


THE  PENALTY. 


The  case  was  tried  before  Recorder  Hackett  in  July,  1874. 
Louise  was  admitted  as  a witness  on  behalf  of  the  State,  and 
Uling  and  Fink  were  each  sentenced  to  eighteen  months’  imprison- 
ment in  Sing  Sing.  Louise  was  discharged  upon  her  own  recog- 
nizances. 

Of  the  subsequent  careers  of  the  parties  concerned  in  this 
most  extraordinary  instance  of  attempted  fraud  I have  no  positive 
knowledge ; but  doubtless  Uling  and  Louise  are  now,  if  they  are 
not  dead,  still  living  together. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 


BEGGARS. — THE  DUDE  MENDICANT. — FROM  BEGGING  TO  THIEVING. 
— TILL  TAPPERS. — SNEAK  THIEVES  ROBBING  RUFUS  LORD. — 
SHOPLIFTING.' — HOW  THE  “ CONFIDENCE  ” GAME  IS  WORKED. 
— CATCHING  A TARTAR. — THE  USE  OF  DRUGS  BY  THIEVES. — 
A MISTAKEN  IDEA. 

There  are  all  kinds  of  beggars  in  New  York,  despite  the  efforts 
of  the  Mendacity  Society,  the  Charity  Organization  Society  and 
other  kindred  organizations.  By  their  agents,  mendicants  are 
traced  to  their  haunts,  their  claim  to  charity  investigated,  and 
should  it  be  discovered  that  they  are  impostors  they  are  prose- 
cuted. If  these  persons  are  caught  in  the  act  of  begging  they  are 
arrested  and  taken  to  the  nearest  police  court,  from  whence  they 
are  sent  to  places  of  industry  under  the  city’s  care. 

The  tramp-beggar  is  the  genus  most  commonly  met.  He 
makes  his  appearance  on  the  street  just  about  the  time  the  street 
lamps  are  lighted  and  honest,  hard-working  citizens  are  going 
home  from  their  labor.  Usually  a tramp-beggar  has  a very  hoarse 
voice  and  a half-starved  countenance.  He  informs  you,  in  what  is 
intended  to  be  a very  pathetic  manner — but  which  isn’t — that  he 
is  out  of  work,  can’t  get  any  and  has  quick  consumption.  Pay 
no  attention  to  his  : “ May  I ask  a favor  of  you  ? ” or  “ Mister, 
would  you  kindly — .”  He  is  a fraud.  Another  favorite  excuse  is 
that  the  applicant  only'needs  a nickle  or  a dime  to  make  up  a suffi- 
cient amount  to  pay  for  his  night’s  lodging  ; but  the  chances  are 
that  he  has  more  ready  cash  in  his  pocket  than  the  person  ad- 
dressed. 

Then  there  is  what  may  be  called  the  chronic  beggar,  who  is 
found  in  the  same  place  week  after  week  and  month  after  month. 
As  a rule  he  is  blind  or  crippled.  Sometimes  he  carries  in  his 
hand  a package  of  lead  pencils,  which  are  never  sold ; a bundle 
of  envelopes  or  writing  paper,  which  are  never  disposed  of.  It 
may  be  that  he  is  equipped  with  a dilapidated  music-box,  asthmat- 
ical  hand-organ,  or  some  such  instrument  of  torture.  Others,  and 
29  449 


BEGGING  LETTER  WRITERS. 


45° 

there  are  not  a few  of  them,  make  no  such  pretence  of  earning  a 
living,  but  come  out  boldly,  tin  cup  or  cigar  box  in  hand,  and  ask 
the  passer  by  for  largess.  Some  of  them  are  poor  in  reality  and 
use  the  proceeds  of  their  solicitations  in  a proper  manner.  Most 
of  them,  however,  are  frauds.  Ladies  do  a great  deal  of  harm  by 
the  thoughtless  manner  in  which  they  give  away  their  small  change. 
The  uglier  and  more  horribly  mutilated  the  beggar  may  be,  the 
greater  his  chance  of  getting  a goodly  share  of  coppers.  One 


CAPTAIN  ANTHONY  J.  ALLAIRE. 
(From  a Photograph.  See  page  ioi.) 


blind  fellow  who  had  a “ stand  ” on  Second  Avenue  for  a consider- 
able time  was  followed  to  a room  in  a house  in  Tenth  Avenue  one 
evening,  where  he  handed  over  his  day’s  receipts — something  more 
than  $16 — to  a number  of  gamblers. 

Then  there  are  the  letter-writing  beggars.  They  are  very  gen- 
teel, and  from  a comparatively  comfortable  home  send  out  the  most 
heart-rending  and  pathetic  letters  regarding  their  piteous  condition. 
The  names  and  addresses  of  all  the  benevolently  disposed  individ- 
uals in  the  city  are  at  these  persons’  fingers’  ends?  and  a mistake 


A NEW  GENIUS. 


451 

is  rarely  made  in  the  character  of  the  person  addressed.  The 
heart  of  the  philanthropist  or  merchant  is  generally  touched  by  the 
tale  of  woe,  and  without  waiting  to  investigate  the  truth  of  the 
letter  he  encloses  a bank-note  in  an  envelope  and  the  beggar 
laughs  in  his  sleeve  at  the  credulity  of  the  giver.  Not  a few  women 
are  engaged  in  this  manner  of  soliciting,  and  they  make  a very  good 
living  out  of  it. 

Of  late  years  a new  genius  has  made  its  appearance — the  dude 
beggar.  A young  man  who  did  not  look  to  be  more  than  twenty 
five  years  old  sauntered  down  Broadway  one  night  in  1880.  His 
light  overcoat  covered  a shapely  form,  his  head  was  crowned  with 
a derby  hat  of  recent  fashion.  A pair  of  eye-glasses  rested  on  his 
nose.  One  hand  was  hidden  in  a neat  driving-glove  and  from  the 
other  hand  dangled  its  mate.  Altogether,  his  appearance  was  that 
of  a natty  young  man  just  returning  from  a late  call — for  it  was 
midnight.  All  this  was  noticed  by  a tired  New  Yorker,  who  was 
overcome  with  surprise  when  this  exceedingly  fine  young  man 
stepped  up  with : 

“ Would  you  kindly  assist  me,  sir,  with  a few  pennies,  that  I may 
get  a lodging  for  the  night  ? ” 

“ What  ? ” gasped  the  almost  dumb-struck  citizen. 

" I am  entirely  without  funds.  I have  met  with  misfortune,” 
suavely  responded  the  young  man. 

Without  attempting  to  reply,  the  person  addressed  pulled  out  a 
ten-cent  piece.  When  the  movement  towards  the  pocket  was 
made,  the  “dude  beggar  ” lightened  his  voice  of  the  stress  of  care 
and  feeling  that  pervaded  it  at  first. 

“ I only  came  over  from  England  a month  ago,”  he  volunteered, 
“ and  am  unable  to  find  work.  I am  a machinist  by  trade.  I 
have  had  no  food  since  last  night.” 

This  observation  was  added  when  the  silent  transfer  of  the 
coin  was  made,  and  its  small  denomination  became  manifest  in  the 
bright  rays  of  an  adjacent  electric  light.  The  beggar  hesitated  a 
moment;  then  he  touched  his  hat  with  a “Thank  you,”  and 
quickened  his  pace  down  Broadway. 

The  loser  by  the  transaction  stood  hesitating  for  a moment. 
Then  he  started  in  pursuit.  The  latter  did  not  even  turn  around, 
and  as  his  pursuer  drew  near  wafted  forth  a contented  whistle.  He 
finally  came  to  a brilliantly  lighted  saloon,  into  which  he  dodged 
with  the  familiarity  of  an  old  rounder.  His  follower  caught  him 


452  “ I HAD  to  get  money  somehow.” 

in  the  act  of  tossing  off  a sherry  flip,  for  .which  he  had  thrown  down 
a fifty-cent  piece  in  payment. 

His  cheek  did  not  pale  when  he  saw  the  almoner  before  him. 
Indeed,  he  nodded  his  head  in  a sort  of  greeting. 

“ I admire  you,  now,”  said  the  New  Yorker.  To  the  bar-keeper, 
“ I will  take  the  same.  Come,  sit  down.  I want  you  to  tell  me  all 
about  it.  Yes,  that  was  with  you.  You  pay.” 

The  young  man  was  led  to  an  adjoining  table,  and  after  a little 
persuading,  told  his  method  of  following  the  begging  business. 

“ Since  you  have  fairly  cornered  me,  I will  tell  you  about  this 
affair.  1 was  once  a hard-working  young  man,  but  owing  to  cir- 
cumstances I was  thrown  out  of  business  and  compelled  to  find 
means  of  sustenance  as  best  I could.  I had  a few  decent  rags 
left,”  and  he  glanced  affectionately  at  the  neat  top  coat,  and 
nudged  with  his  chin  the  rather  flaming  necktie  that  encircled  an 
upright  collar. 

“ I had  to  get  money  somehow,  and  I took  the  method  you  have 
observed.  I joined  the  ranks  of  the  dude  beggars.  I am  not 
ashamed  of  the  term.  A beggar  is  a beggar.  Yes,  there  are  others 
like  me.  You  have  not  happened  to  meet  them,  that  is-  all.  In- 
deed, a little  more  and  you  would  not  have  met  me,  as  I go  to 
Washington  to-morrow.  Congress  is  in  session,  you  know,  and  it 
is  really  about  the  best  time  to  visit  the  Capital. 

“ The  success  of  my  method — you  are  not  the  only  one  who  has 
been  kind  to  me  to-night  ” — and  the  speaker  proved  his  assertion 
without  remark  by  giving  his  pocketful  of  coins  a slap — “ the  suc- 
cess of  my  method  is  owing  to  the  astonishment  which  affects  those 
to  whom  I make  my  appeals.  My  appearance  does  not  imply 
want  or  starvation,  and  when  I tell  my  story  the  listener  immedi- 
ately concludes,  as  soon  as  he  recovers  himself,  that  I am  telling 
the  strict  truth  and  have  been  caught  without  means.  He  goes 
away  after  making  his  donation  feeling  extremely  well  satisfied 
that  he  has  at  last  hit  upon  a case  deserving  of  true  charity.” 

So  much  for  the  beggar,  who,  although  not  exactly  a criminal, 
still  preys  upon  society,  and  is  not  by  any  means  a law-abiding 
citizen. 

From  professional  begging  to  thieving  is  a very  short  step. 
As  a rule,  till-tapping  is  the  ground  on  which  young  thieves 
— boys  and  youths — first  practice.  To  be  a successful  till-tapper 
the  boy  must  have  both  courage  and  daring.  The  way  in  which 


453 


“ MOSQUITOES.” 

they  work  is  as  follows  : Three  or  four  boys  enter  a store,  one  after 
the  other,  being  careful  to  select  an  hour  when  some  of  the  clerks 
are  absent.  One  or  two  of  the  party  make  a pretence  of  purchas- 
ing some  small  article,  while  the  third — who  it  has  been  arranged 
previously  shall  secure  the  contents  of  the  till — will  probably  ask 
to  look  at  the  directory.  Sometimes  one  excuse  is  made  and 
sometimes  another,  but  if  it  is  sufficient  to  turn  the  attention  of  the 
clerk  for  a moment  or  so,  the  trick  is  done  and  the  thieves  are 
off.  Occasionally  a till-tapper  will  operate  alone,  creeping  in  on 
his  hands  and  knees  behind  the  counter,  and  then  make  a bold 
dash  for  the  street.  But  this  is  a dangerous  bit  of  work,  and  is 
very  rarely  attempted. 

Then  the  molasses  trick  is  played.  This  is  very  amusing  to 
everybody  but  the  victim.  Two  of  the  thieves  go  to  his  store, 
laughing,  carrying  their  hats  in  their  hands.  They  tell  him  they 
have  a bet  on  as  to  whose  hat  will  hold  the  most  molasses.  He  is 
to  decide  the  bet  by  filling  up  one  of  the  hats.  But  it  will  ruin  the 
hat.  Never  mind  ; the  winner  can  pay  for  a new  one.  So  the 
obliging  grocer  pours  in  the  molasses.  At  this  interesting  stage 
of  the  proceedings,  a third  conspirator  enters  the  store  and  asks 
for  the  change  of  a quarter.  The  grocer  goes  to  his  till,  and  the 
moment  his  back  is  turned  the  hat  containing  the  molasses  is 
clapped  dexterously  on  his  head  from  behind.  This  is  where  the 
laugh  comes  in,  for  while  he  is  groping  about,  blinded  and  half 
smothered  by  the  sticky  mass,  his  till  is  rifled  of  its  contents  and 
the  thieves  make  good  their  escape. 

Every  commander  of  a precinct  will  agree  with  me  in  saying 
that  the  “ mosquitoes  ” of  police  duty  are  the  sneak  thieves.  They 
grade  from  the  urchin  who  will  snatch  an  apple  from  the  front  of 
a grocery  store,  to  the  clever,  plausible,  well-dressed  fellow  who 
will  steal  into  a mansion  like  a shadow  and  disappear  with  the  sub- 
stance, leaving  not  a “ wrack  ” behind.  In  such  cases  I can  hardly 
blame  the  captain  and  his  precinct  detectives  for  just  making  an 
inquiry  into  the  facts,  and  advising  the  householder  to  be  more 
careful  in  the  future.  Of  course  sneak  thieves  of  the  better  class 
could  not  exist  unless  there  were  receivers  of  stolen  goods ; while 
on  the  other  hand  there  would  be  no  arrests  of  first-class  members 
of  this  class  in  the  criminal  world,  without  a friendly  hint  now  and 
then  from  persons  known  to  the  police  as  receivers  of  their  plunder. 
So  that  where  a precinct  commander  wishes  to  gain  occasional 


454  “ SECOND' STORY  ” MEN. 

glory  by  the  capture  of  a sneak  thief  he  must,  in  , gamblers’  par- 
lance, “ play  both  ends  against  the  middle  ” — that  is,  his  conscience 
and  reputation  against  “ optional  intelligence  ” in  regard  to  persons 
he  knows  to  be  in  league  with  the  criminals. 

Strangely  enough,  the  most  dangerous  sneak  thieves  are  those 
who  work  alone.  Men  have  been  in  this  “ business  ” for  years 
without  being  detected.  They  have  no  one  to  betray  them  except 
themselves,  and  they  are  generally  faithful  to  their  trust.  Perhaps 
the  most  venturesome  is  the  “second-story  ” man.  In  all  my  ex- 


perience I think  I can  say  truly  that  there  have  not  been  more 
than  six  of  this  class  who  have  come  under  my  notice.  There 
may  have  been  a dozen  “ working  ” during  that  time.  If  so,  six 
have  never  come  to  grief.  This  is  simply  the  result  of  the  manner 
in  which  these  “ princes  of  larceny  ” manage  their  affairs.  A “ sec- 
ond-story ” man  is  required  to  be  shrewd,  have  an  absolute  knowl- 
edge of  police  methods,  be  an  A i judge  of  human  nature,  know 
the  ways  of  servants,  profound  in  divining  feminine  artifices  in  re- 
spect to  concealing  valuables,  expert  in  judging  the  value  of  pre- 


THE-IR  METHODS. 


455 


cious  stones,  jewelry,  and,  but  rarely,  furs  and  garments — for  these 
gentry  make  up  their  last  in  small  packages,  and  do  not  care  to  ap- 
pear bulky  when  returning  from  a marauding  expedition.  He  must 
have  great  architectural  instinct,  and,  above  all,  acrobatic  ability. 
The  hour  of  the  “ second-story  ” man  is  6 p.m  , in  winter,  and 
dusk  in  summer  ; but  here  it  should  be  said  that  mid-summer 
business  is  neither  safe  or  profitable.  When  dusk  comes  with  the 
dinner  hopr,  then  is  the  “ second-story  ” man’s  opportunity.  His 
aim  is  to  be  above  the  inmates  of  the  house  when  they  are  pleasantly 
engaged  in  discussing  the  evening  meal.  No  one  ever  saw  a 
“pursy,”  asthmatic  or  feeble  “ second'Story  ” man.  Take  a circus 
acrobat,  and  you  have  his  model.  His  aim  is  to  reach  a second- 
story  window  unobserved.  That  attained  he  will  take  care  of  him- 
self. It  is  immaterial  to  him  whether  the  window  be  open  or  shut, 
no  catch  ever  devised  can  keep  him  out.  His  “ tools  ” can  be 
carried  in  his  hat  if  necessary.  They  consist  of  a jimmy,  not  more 
than  five  inches  long ; nippers,  a piece  of  candle,  matches,  a thin 
bladed  glazier’s  knife  ; and,  in  some  cases,  a piece  of  paper  smeared 
with  Venice  turpentine,  molasses  or  any  substance  that  will  keep 
sticky  and  wet  for  a long  time.  This  is  used  when  it  is  necessary 
to  break  a pane  of  glass.  A monkey  in  the  tether  of  an  Italian 
organ  grinder  is  not  more  agile  than  a second-story  man  in  ascend 
ing  by  means  of  window  blinds,  gutters,  or  anything  which  will 
afford  finger  or  toe  hold,  or  the  grasp  of  an  arm.  A few  seconds 
suffice  to  enter  a window.  Then  a hasty  survey  of  the  field  ; and 
everything  is  comprehended  at  a glance. 

A second-story  man  rarely  opens  anything  which  does  not  con- 
tain valuables.  Few  locks  are  proof  against  his  jimmy.  He 
rapidly  stores  his  plunder  in  capacious  pockets,  often  fitted  with 
safety-flaps  so  that  in  descending  to  the  ground,  or  in  flight,  nothing 
can  fall  out.  An  average  of  two  minutes  to  a room  is  enough  for 
his  purpose.  During  this  time  he  has  to  keep  a sharp  look-out  for 
stray  members  of  the  household  and  a dog.  If  possible,  he  chooses 
other  means  of  exit  than  those  of  his  entry,  so  that  a knowledge  of 
the  various  fashions  of  protecting  front  doors  comes  in  use.  Once 
in  the  street,  he  never  hurries  until  out  of  sight  of  the  house  he 
has  plundered,  except  when  pursued.  In  such  an  event  he  is  al- 
ways “ clean  ” when  the  hand  of  the  law  is  laid  on  him,  having 
thrown  his  plunder  away.  I recollect  three  cases  of  conviction  of 
such  marauders.  The  very  king  of  these  specialists,  after  a 


SNEAK  THIEVES. 


45  6 

wonderful  career  in  respect  to  evading  arrest,  met  his  fate  by  the 
toppling  over  of  a coping-stone,  which  fell  on  his  head  and  killed 
him. 

Next  in  rank  is  the  first-class  sneak  thief  who  has  no  acrobatic 
ability,  but  who  has  a thorough  knowledge  of  the  science  of  open- 
ing front  or  basement  doors,  profiting  from  the  carelessness  of  in- 
mates, and  occasionally  venturing  a descent  through  the  coal 
chute  or  the  scuttle  on  the  roof.  I remember  the  unearthing,  in 
September,  1879,  °f  one  °f  the  worst  gangs  of  sneak  thieves  that 
ever  made  a police  captain’s  life  unhappy.  The  party  was  com- 
posed of  Michael  Murphy,  George  Leonard,  Alexander  Higgins, 
George  Thompson  and  Arthur  Dempsey.  They  had  an  ally  in  the 
person  of  John  J.  Sheridan,  a liquor  dealer,  of  No.  428  East  Thir- 
teenth Street.  Their  depredations  startled  the  community.  They 
were  like  the  Irishman’s  flea.  One  day  a robbery  up  town,  next 
down  town,  then  the  east,  then  the  west,  and  then  in  the  centre  of 
the  city.  At  first  no  police  officer  could  “ place  ” them.  Their 
principal  “ tracks  ” consisted  of  the  following  robberies : In 
August,  at  No.  47  East  Ninth  Street,  at  the  residence  of  the  Rev. 
Mancius  C.  Hutton.  This  was  a “ coal  chute  job.”  The  house 
was  vacant  so  far  as  residents  were  concerned,  and  the  usual  occu- 
pant, who  was  in  the  country,  was  an  antiquarian.  His  rooms 
were  crowded  with  objects  of  art,  precious  documents,  old  furni- 
ture, tapestries  and  books — some  of  them  of  great  value.  The 
thieves  completely  gutted  the  place.  No  band  of  brigands  ever 
displayed  less  regard  for  property  which  would  not  pay  for  carry- 
ing away.  When  the  robbery  was  discovered  it  was  ascertained 
that  the  articles  secured  by  the  thieves  were  worth  less  than  a 
thousand  dollars.  In  getting  this  much  they  had  done  at  least 
$5000  damage.  They  had  turned  over  the  contents  of  each  apart- 
ment in  order  to  select  what  was  “ negotiable,”  ripping,  cutting, 
breaking  and  defiling  what  they  did  not  want ; and  piling  the  re- 
jected articles  in  the  centre  of  the  room.  Only  a day  or  two 
afterwards  the  members  of  the  gang  visited  the  residence  of  Mrs. 
Mary  G.  Duykinck.  This  raid  netted  them  about  a thousand  dol- 
lars. Later,  General  J.  Watts  De  Peyster  was  the  sufferer.  His 
quaint  old  home  at  No.  59  East  Twenty-first  Street  was  entered  by 
the  coal  chute,  and  the  property  taken  was  worth  “ intrinsically  ” 
more  than  $3000.  It  included  medals  and  other  souvenirs,  for 
which  the  General  would  have  refused  $10,000.  Next  in  order 


COAT,  CHUTE  JOBS. 


457 


was  the  robbery  of  No.  24  Lexington  Avenue,  the  residence  of 
Mr.  J.  Allen,  of  the  firm  of  Allen  & Dam  (Astor  House).  Mr. 
Allen’s  loss  was  $ 2000 . Then  came  Mr.  T.  A.  Coakley’s  house, 
No.  268  West  Twenty-fourth  Street,  loss,  $1200.  Then,  Mrs.  J.  H. 
Billings’s  residence  at  No.  117  East  Nineteenth  Street,  where 
trunks  were  rifled  of  property  worth  $700. 

By  chance,  a week  after,  a policeman  of  the  Twenty-ninth  Pre- 
cinct, arrested  Murphy,  Leonard  and  Higgins  in  the  act  of  plun- 


dering No.  140  West  Thirty-fourth  Street,  the  residence  of  Mr.  F. 
C.  Manning.  The  job  was  a coal  chute  one,  and  when  Detectives 
King  and  Lyons  heard  of  it  they  were  active  in  examining  and  in- 
terrogating the  prisoners.  From  what  they  learned,  they  became 
assured  of  the  men’s  complicity  in  the  other  robberies  mentioned. 
They  found  that  one  of  them  wore  a shirt  and  necktie  which  had 
been  taken  from  Mr.  Allen’s  house.  This  led  to  the  surveillance 
of  men  who  might  be  reasonably  supposed  to  associate  with  the 


458 


RUFUS  L.  LORD. 


prisoners;  and  so,  ten  days  later,  the  officers  had  the  satisfaction 
of  arresting  Thompson  and  Dempsey  carrying  valises  which  con- 
tained the  bulk  of  the  Duykinck  property.  Sheridan’s  connection 
with  the  thieves  had  by  this  time  been  more  than  suspected.  It 
was  safe  now  to  explore  his  place.  The  result  was  satisfactory  to 
the  police.  Not  only  was  much  of  the  other  property  found  there, 
but  also  “ stuff  ” obtained  in  other  expeditions.  Sheridan’s  pri- 
vate quarters  were  fitted  up  as  a store-house,  and  the  display  of 
recovered  goods,  worth  from  seven  to  eight  thousand  dollars, 
at  police  headquarters,  was  about  the  best  ever  seen  there.  The 
prisoners  were  all  convicted  and  sentenced  to  long  terms  of  im- 
prisonment. 

One  of  the  most  important  sneak  thieving  operations  known  in 
this  country  was  that  perpetrated  on  Rufus  L.  Lord,  capitalist  and 
owner  of  vast  real  estate  in  the  neighborhood  of  Exchange  Place. 
Lord  was  a financial  curiosity,  and  his  wealth  in  his  later  years 
could  not  have  been  less  than  $4,000,000.  That  he  was  economical 
there  could  be  no  doubt,  and  some  persons  called  him  a miser. 
There  was  some  reason  for  this.  At  No.  38  Exchange  Place  he 
had^what  he  called  an  “ office.”  It  was  rather  a den,  presided  over 
by  this  Croesus.  His  ordinary  attire  consisted  of  garments  which 
a first-class  rag-picker  would  disdain  to  take  from  an  ash-barrel, 
and,  invariably,  a pair  of  slippers  which  appeared  to  have  done 
considerable  service.  The  “ fittings  ” of  the  office  were  as  antique 
as  the  attire  of  its  occupant.  At  the  back  of  the  room,  behind 
his  desk,  he  had  constructed  a fire-proof  vault,  in  which  were  placed 
the  deeds,  accounts  and  books  of  his  property,  and  also  vast  sums  in 
bonds  and  securities.  This  vault  was  known  to  be  so  fire  and  burg- 
lar-proof that  wealthy  friends  often  asked  permission  to  put  their 
securities  and  money  in  it.  Mr.  Lord’s  end  and  aim  in  life  was  to 
amass  wealth : he  talked  and  dreamed  of  nothing  else,  and  what 
work  he  did  was  confined  to  taking  his  securities  and  bonds  from 
the  safe,  gloating  over  them  and  cutting  off  the  coupons. 

I well  remember  how,  on  the  7th  of  March,  1866,  poor  Mr.  Lord 
came  to  grief.  At  that  time  he  was  almost  in  his  dotage.  He 
was  blear-eyed,  feeble,  and  absent-minded  to  the  extent  of  fre- 
quently leaving  his  treasure  unguarded  and  at  the  mercy  of  ma- 
rauders. 'Upon  one  occasion  he  went  home,  leaving  his  office  and 
safe  open,  with  nearly  $2,000,000  at  the  command  of  the  first  ad- 
venturer who  came  along.  At  another  time,  the  janitor  in  clean- 


A PAIR  OF  BOSTON  WORTHIES. 


459 


ing.up  the  place  found  the  key  of  the  vault  in  the  wash-basin,  where 
Mr.  Lord  had  washed  some  grime  from  his  usually  dirty  hands. 
He  was  deaf,  garrulous,  and  his  attention  was  easily  distracted  by 
• any  chance  visitor  who  happened  to  call  with  a plan  for  mak- 
ing more  money.  Upon  the  date  mentioned,  Mr.  Lord  was  busy 
as  usual  in  his  den.  He  was,  it  is  believed,  at  the  time  concern- 
ing which  I am  about  to  relate,  sorting  coupons  into  bundles. 
Two  plausible  gentlemen  called.  They  had  visited  him  before, 
and  were,  therefore,  not  entire  strangers  to  him.  They  were  “ Jack  ” 
Rand,  alias  “Greedy  Jake,”  bank  burglar  and  sneak,  and  so 
thoroughly  dishonest  that  once,  in  a marauding  expedition  in 
Canada,  he  got  the  start  of  some  confederates  with  whom  he  was 
to  visit  a bank,  opened  the  cash  receptacle  himself,  and  got  away 
with  the  plunder,  leaving  his  “ pals  ” in  the  lurch.  Hence  the 
sobriquet,  “ Greedy.”  The  other  worthy  was  Horace  Ennis,  com- 
monly known  as  “ Hod.”  Both  hailed  from  Boston. 

At  the  former  visit  these  gentlemen  had  taken  a good  look  at  the 
room  in  which  they  were  received,  and  had  incidentally  discovered 
Mr.  Lord’s  many  infirmities.  It  was  easy,  therefore,  while  they 
engaged  his  attention  on  the  first  visit,  for  “ Ed.”  Pettengill,  alias 
“Perkins,”  alias  “Anderson,”  alias  “Boston  Pet,”  to  glide  into 
the  den,  take  the  key  from  the  vault  and  obtain  a wax  impression 
of  it.  This  was  a precautionary  measure.  On  the  day  of  the  crime 
there  was  no  need  of  using  the  key  which  had  been  manufactured 
from  the  wax  impression.  Pettengill  again  glided  in  like  a shadow, 
seized  two  tin  boxes,  as  silently  gliding  out.  He  took  with  him  nego- 
tiable and  un-negotiable  securities  worth  little  less  than  $1,900,000  ! 
This  is  claimed  to  be  the  greatest  “ haul  ” ever  made  in  this  coun- 
try by  a sneak  thief,  and  in  my  opinion  the  claim  is  a just  one. 
The  greater  part  of  the  securities — half  a million  of  which  belonged 
to  a Mr.  Barron — were  as  negotiable  as  a double  gold  eagle,  being 
coupon  bonds.  For  instance,  there  was  a little  matter  of  $275,000 
in  one  bundle,  of  7.3-10  per  cents.  Then  there  were  forty  $5000 
bonds  of  the  same  denomination  ; a few  10-40,  piles  of  7-30’s,  a lot  of 
Oregon  War  Debt,  a quarter  of  a million  in  registered  stock,  sheaves 
of  Warren  Railroad  stock,  of  New  Jersey,  Hartford  and  New  Haven, 
Delaware,  Lackawanna  and  Western  ; New  Orleans  Mechanics’ 
and  Traders’  Bank,  Columbia  Marine  Insurance,  Manhattan  Fire 
Insurance,  John  Scott  bonds,  Galena*  and  Chicago  first  mortgage  ; 
St.  Louis,  Alton  and  Terre  Haute  second  mortgage,  and  also  in- 


t r 


460 


WHERE  THE  SWAG  WAS  “ PLANTED.” 


come  and  interest  bonds  of  the  same  railroad.  On  top  of  all  there 
was  $26,000  in  six  per  cent.  United  States  coupons. 

When  Mr.  Pettengill  had  “done  his  end  of  the  job,”  Messrs. 
Rand  and  Ennis  bade  Mr.  Lord  a courteous  and  dignified  adieu. 

Wall  Street  was  convulsed  by  the  magnitude  and  audacity  of 
the  crime,  while  Mr.  Lord  came  very  near  dying  from  chagrin  and 
mortification.  Superintendent  John  A.  Kennedy,  Chief  Detective 
John  Young  and  his  aides,  as  well  as  all  the  private  detective  agen- 


cies, were  immediately  interested  in  the  robbery.  Strangely 
enough,  but  possibly  because  it  was  war  time,  the  newspapers  of 
the  day  devoted  but  a few  lines  to  the  recital  of  the  affair ; but  in 
their  advertising  columns  it  took  a column  to  enumerate  the  stolen 
securities.  What  the  robbers  did  with  the  securities  became  after- 
wards very  clear.  The  tin  boxes  were  taken  to  a liquor  store  kept 
by  an  Englishman,  at  Spring  and  Worcester  streets,  where  they 
were  “ planted.”  There  was  a sort  of  a “ whack-up  ” among  the 
perpetrators  of  the  robbery,  to  whom  should  be  added  a man 
named  Harry  Howard.  Ennis  started  on  a negotiating  tour  with 


JIMMY  PRICE. 


(From  a Photograph.) 


% 


jack,  rand’s  “reformation.”  461 

about  a quarter  of  a million  of  the  United  States  securities — which, 
by  the  way,  amounted  in  all  to  $ 1,200,000 — in  Massachusetts.  A 
dozen  detectives  knew  he  had  gone,  but  only  Captain  Young  knew 
of  Mr.  Lord’s  wishes  and  intentions.  Mr.  Lord’s  avarice  prompted 
him  to  request,  first,  the  recovery  of  his  property,  and  then  the 
arrest  of  the  thieves,  if  the  detectives  cared  to  bother  with  them. 
For  the  recovery  of  the  securities  a large  percentage  reward  was 
offered.  And  so  it  came  about  that  Mr.  Ennis,  at  Newburyport, 
fell  into  the  hands  of  a grasping  sheriff,  gave  up  the  bonds  he  had 
in  his  possession,  and  made  the  sheriff  richer  by  $25,000.  A 
small  percentage  of  the  bonds  found  their  way  into  Canada  ; but 
the  bulk  of  the  booty  was  carried  to  Europe  by  the  English  liquor 
dealer.  Negotiations  for  the  return  of  these  bonds  and  securities 
were  then  begun,  through  the  medium  of  a “highly  moral  and  con- 
scientious ” English  solicitor.  The  result  was  that  Mr.  Lord  and 
Mr.  Barron  got  back  $1,600,000  worth  of  their  property — a shrink- 
age of  $200,000.  It  is  barely  possible  that  the  thieves  got  more 
than  $75,000  for  the  job.  Some  of  the  securities  were  lost,  a good 
deal  of  money  was  paid  out  in  expenses,  and  the  English  solicitor 
put  the  balance  to  the  credit  of  his  bank  account.  Nobody  was 
punished  for  the  crime.  Howard  and  Pettengill  were  arrested  in 
this  city  in  August,  1866,  but  were  not  prosecuted.  A pawn- 
broker, too,  was  apprehended  for  having  in  his  possession  a five 
thousand  dollar  bond  of  Mr.  Lord’s  ; and  Mr.  F.  Hellen,  then  of 
No.  9 Wall  Street,  was  arrested  and  discharged  on  a complaint  of 
having  dealt  in  some  of  the  stolen  securities. 

Of  the  thieves,  only  Pettengill  now  survives.  He  is  a broken 
down,  miserable  tramp.  He  has  run  the  gamut  of  high  crime — 
bank  sneak  and  forger — and  is  now  and  then  “ shown  up  ” at 
police  headquarters,  possibly  as  an  antiquarian  curiosity,  for  he  is 
now  harmless  in  his  former  lines  of  “business.”  Jack  Rand,  who 
“reformed  ” some  years  ago — his  “ reformation”  did  not  go  to  the 
extent  of  refunding  a snug  little  fortune  amassed  by  villany — 
dropped  dead  last  year  at  the  Beacon  Park  race  course,  near  Bos- 
ton, just  after  he  had  purchased  a gambling  ticket. 

A very  clever  scheme  of  swindlers  is  known  as  the  “ Custom 
House  racket.”  A man  calls  at  your  house,  attired  in  what  looks 
very  much  like  a Custom  House  officer’s  uniform,  and  producesBills 
for  parcels  from  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic,  which  are  now  in 
hand,  and  must  be  released  immediately.  In  most  instances  no 


462 


VARIOUS  TRICKS. 


one  stops  to  question  the  authenticity  of  the  bill  which  is  pre- 
sented, and  it  is  paid  without  much  questioning.  Even  if  one 
does  question  this  quondam  Custom  House  officer,  he  always  has 
an  answer  ready.  He  is  the  most  plausible  kind  of  a fellow  and 
always  behaves  like  a “ perfect  gentleman.”  In  one  case  a fellow 
of  this  class  called  at  a house  on  Eighty-first  Street,  and  collected 
a little  less  than  ten  dollars  on  one  of  his  bogus  bills.  The  lady  of 
the  house  had  occasion  to  bring  the  money  from  an  up-stairs  room, 
and  while  she  was  gone  he  was  left  alone  in  the  parlor.  Finding 
the  piano  open  he  sat  down  and  played  “ Nearer,  my  God,  to 
thee,”  with  great  taste  and  feeling.  So  much  pathos,  in  fact,  did 
he  infuse  into  the  whole  performance,  that  when,  after  some  days 
of  waiting  and  anxious  inquiries,  no  package  arrived,  his  victims 
refused  to  believe  he  was  anything  but  an  honest  man.  Probably 
they  think  so  now,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  their  Custom  House 
pianist  is  wearing  a striped  suit  within  the  walls  of  Sing  Sing. 

A more  impudent  and  barefaced  mode  of  petty  thieving  is  that 
adopted  by  the  man  in  a jumper,  who  pokes  his  head  in  at  the 
door  the  moment  an  express  package  has  been  delivered  and 
says : 

“ Beg  pardon,  ma’am  ; the  driver  left  the  Wrong  parcel.  I’ll 
take  it  and  bring  back  the  right  one.” 

And  that’s  the  last  of  your  parcel. 

Another  “ cheeky  ” thief  is  the  one  who  makes  a good  “ haul  ” 
now  and  then  by  following  coal  carts  to  their  destination — to  sa- 
loons or  restaurants  he  gives  the  preference — where  he  assumes  an 
air  of  authority  which  is  liable  to  impose  upon  the  sharpest.  He 
bosses  the  whole  business  in  the  most  audacious  and  barefaced 
manner,  until  the  driver  of  the  team  thinks  he  is  connected  with 
the  firm  by  whom  the  coal  is  sent.  When  the  swindler  thinks  this 
stage  has  been  reached — and  he  is  an  accurate  judge — he  demands 
the  driver’s  unsigned  receipt,  collects  the  cash  for  the  coal  and  de- 
camps. 

It  would  be  impossible  for  me  to  enumerate  all  the  tricks  which 
have  been  resorted  to  by  this  class  of  criminals  to  dupe  their 
victims.  The  way  in  which  the  “ confidence  ” game  is  played  is 
familiar  to  most  persons,  but  for  all  that,  scarcely  a day  passes  but 
somebody  is  victimized  by  it.  Country  people  are  not  the  only 
dupes.  Not  by  any  means.  Look  at  Oscar  Wilde,  Charles  Francis 


THE  USE  OF  CHLOROFORM.  463 

Adams  and  others  quite  as  educated  and  in  just  such  prominent 
positions  in  society. 

Shoplifting  is  almost  exclusively  confined  to  women.  Generally 
the  shoplifter  carries  a bag,  fastened  with  straps  around  the  waist, 
into  which  she  can  easily  drop  anything  she  may  steal.  Some 
women  arrange  their  skirts  so  that  the  whole  front  from  waist  to 
bottom  forms  a bag,  which  can  be  stuffed  full  of  feathers,  laces, 
etc.,  without  any  outward  sign.  A very  handy  receptacle  for  the 
storing  away  of  fine  goods  is  a muff.  Quite  a natural  and  innocent 
looking  thing  in  itself,  but  very  dangerous  when  utilized  by  a shop- 
lifter. The  woman  puts  her  muff  on  a pile  of  handkerchiefs,  and 
while  she  examines  something  with  one  hand,  quietly  pulls  hand- 
kerchiefs, or  anything  else  within  reach,  into  her  muff  with  the 
other. 

I have  been  frequently  called  upon  to  express  an  opinion  re- 
garding the  frequency,  or  otherwise,  of  the  use  of  chloroform  by 
the  criminal  classes  to  assist  in  robbery.  I may  at  once  say  that 
during  the  whole  of  my  experience  there  was  never  a case  of  this 
character  where  chloroform  was  alleged  to  have  been  used, 
brought  before  me,  without  my  regarding  the  whole  business  with  a 
considerable  amount  of  suspicion.  It  is  very  difficult  for  me  to 
remember  any  case  in  which  I was  convinced  that  chloroform  was 
employed  by  thieves  whose  intent  was  to  commit  a robbery.  The 
very  character  of  this  anaesthetic  precludes  its  employment  for 
general  criminal  purposes.  When  carelessly  applied  it  has  some- 
thing of  a corrosive  action,  and  its  contact  with  the  mucous  mem- 
brane would  leave  a trace.  Being,  too,  a volatile  fluid,  with  a 
peculiar  odor,  its  presence  would  be  immediately  revealed.  It  is 
a solvent  and  acts  quickly  on  colors,  and  if  it  is  absorbed  by  ma- 
terials which  are  dyed  the  colors  would  be  effaced.  What  is  more 
to  the  point,  however,  is  this  : To  administer  chloroform,  the  person 
taking  it  must  be  willing  to  accept  it.  If  he  or  she  be  unwilling, 
then  force  or  violence  must  be  employed  ; and  if  violence  is  to  be 
used  at  all  a much  easier  thing  is  to  knock  the  victim  on  the  head 
with  a bludgeon.  A handkerchief  saturated  with  chloroform  is 
perfectly  ineffective,  unless  it  be  closely  and  persistently  applied 
to  the  mouth  and  nostrils.  It  is  impossible  to  make  such  appli- 
cations of  chloroform  to  healthy  sleeping  persons  without  awak- 
ening them.  Entirely  ignorant  of  the  nature  or  effects  of  chloro- 
form, a great  many  persons  suppose  that  a sponge  saturated  with 


464 


POPULAR  ERRORS. 


it  and  left  in  a room  will  throw  a sleeping  person  into  a state  of 
coma.  This,  of  course,  is  nonsense  ; and  I believe  all  physicians 
will  agree  with  me  that  chloroform  as  an  agent  to  aid  the  criminal 
in  robbing  his  victim  is  worthless.  I do  not  mean  to  say  that,  in 
case  a person  is  ill,  or  very  old,  or  feeble,  robbery  may  not  be  com- 
mitted by  means  of  chloroform  ; but  the  chance  of  discovery  is 
even  greater  than  if  a weapon  of  some  kind  had  been  used  to  at- 
tain the  same  end.  I have  found,  very  frequently,  that  persons 


THEO.  BISHOP. 

(From  a Photograph.) 

who  have  lost  money  entrusted  to  them,  and  who  have  alleged  they 
were  chloroformed,  have  been  themselves  the  real  culprits. 

Sensational  romance  is  full  of  stories  of  crimes  effected  by  means 
of  chloroform  ; but  all  this  must  be  credited  to  the  vivid  imagina- 
tion of  the  writer.  As  to  the  use  of  drugs,  I am  inclined  to  believe 
that  they  are  very  rarely  employed.  It  is  quite  possible  to  “ hocus  ” 
beer  by  its  mixture  with  a few  grains  of  opium,  but  authentic  cases 
of  drugged  liquor  are  exceptional.  Such  reports  are  generally 
mythical.  Why  should  a man  who  wants  to  rob  another  adminis- 
ter an  opiate  ? If  he  can  induce  his  intended  victim  to  partake  of 
one  glass  of  spirits  it  is  much  easier  to  induce  him  to  have  another 


PRETENDED  ROBBERIES. 


465 


than  it  is  to  tamper  with  the  liquor.  It  is  far  easier  and  safer  to 
get  a man  drunk  than  it  is  to  poison  him  ; and  the  risk  is  greatly 
diminished.  If  a man’s  head  will  resist  alcoholic  influences 
longer  than  a woman’s,  why,  when  the  latter  is  the  subject,  need  an 
opiate  be  used  at  all,  even  from  the  assailant’s  own  point  of  view  ? 
The  use  of  snuff  mixed  with  liquors  is  sometimes  written  about. 
A little  consideration  of  the  subject,  or,  at  any  rate,  experimenting 
with  it,  will  show  that  the  administration  of  a dose  of  this  kind 
would  make  the  fraud  immediately  apparent  to  the  person  who 
drank  of  it.  A pinch  of  snuff  would  make  a glass  of  beer,  or  any 
thing  else,  positively  nauseating. 

An  almost  endless  quantity  of  nonsense  has  been  written  about 
the  skill  of  criminals  in  the  “ fixing  ” of  drugged  fluids  and  the  ad. 
ministration  of  them.  Criminals  are  clever  enough,  in  their  way 
too  clever,  but  they  possess  no  secret  drugs  with  which  to  lull  their 
unsuspecting  victims  to  sleep,  sensational  novels  to  the  contrary 
notwithstanding. 

I remember  one  case  that  came  under  my  notice.  A prominent 
jeweller  claimed  that  he  had  been  robbed.  His  store  was  situated 
under  a hotel,  and  his  story  to  me  was  that  during  the  night,  while 
he  was  in  bed,  chloroform  had  been  administered  to  him  and  his 
money  stolen.  Always  suspicious  about  chloroform,  I put  a num- 
ber of  searching  questions  to  him.  He  described  his  symptoms  to 
me  in  a very  minute  manner — he  was  half-conscious,  but  could  not 
move.  To  make  his  story  more  plausible,  he  informed  me  that  the 
traces  of  the  chloroform  could  still  be  found  on  his  pillow.  This 
decided  the  matter  in  my  own  mind.  The  man  was  a fraud,  and 
was  trying  to  humbug  me.  Sure  enough,  when  the  pillow  was 
examined  an  oily  substance  was  found  staining  it ; but  it  bore  no  re- 
semblance, either  in  color  or  odor,  to  chloroform,  and  a chemical 
analysis  proved  that  it  was  simply  linseed  oil.  There  had  been  no 
robbery,  and  I believe  it  afterwards  turned  out  that  the  man  was 
financially  embarrassed  and  had  invented  the  chloroform  story  as 
an  excuse  for  not  paying  his  debts. 

It  is  very  certain  that  if  chloroform  could  be  made  useful  by 
thieves  they  would  almost  always  employ  it.  The  fact  that  they 
do  not  do  so  shows  conclusively  that  if  they  have  tried  it  they 
abandoned  it  long  ago,  finding  it  to  be  of  no  avail.  All  “ chloro- 
form ” stories,  therefore,  should  be  examined  into  most  thoroughly. 
Let  me  recall  another  case ; 

3© 


466 


“ WHAT  STUFF/’ 


A man  in  active  business,  whose  credit  was  good  and  who  pos- 
sessed some  means,  was  heavily  indebted  to  one  of  the  most  prom- 
inent grocery  firms  in  New  York  City.  This  indebtedness  was  in 
the  form  of  notes  due  at  certain  dates.  The  man  had  always  paid 
his  obligations,  and  his  financial  condition  was  regarded  as  per- 
fectly solvent.  He  was  something  of  a speculator  in  real  estate, 
and  the  opportunity  came  when  he  thought  he  could  purchase  a 
piece  of  property  at  a bargain.  A note  to  his  groceryman  was 
due.  He  went  to  the  holder  of  the  note  and  said : 

“I  have  just  met  with  a terrible  misfortune — a great  loss.  I 
went  down  on  Wall  Street  to  sell  some  bonds,  so  that  I could 
meet  your  note.  In  a hallway,  where  I happened  to  be,  a stranger 
came  up  and  spoke  to  me,  and  that  is  the  last  I remember  about 
it.  When  I came  to  consciousness  I found  myself  on  Staten  Is- 
land in  the  neighborhood  of  a friend’s  house.  My  bonds  were 
gone  ! I must  have  been  chloroformed,  and  that  is  all  I know 
about  it.” 

That  was  the  extraordinary  story  he  told  the  members  of  the 
firm  to  whom  he  was  indebted.  I was  very  much  inclined  to  dis- 
believe his  story,  and  I assured  the  groceryman  that  it  was  all 
utter  nonsense.  Then  they  were  convinced,  though  at  first  they 
were  inclined  to  think  he  had  been  chloroformed  and  robbed.  The 
man  was  sent  for,  I had  a private  interview  with  him,  and  he  re- 
peated his  story,  varying  in  no  respect  from  his  first  narration. 
When  he  had  finished,  I Said  : 

“ What  stuff ! You  don’t  mean  to  say  that  you  found  yourself 
on  Staten  Island,  and  that  no  one  knew  of  your  transfer  l A man 
can’t  be  carried  on  a ferry  boat  without  being  seen  by  somebody. 
How  were  you  carried  ? It’s  preposterous  for  you  to  try  and  make 
me  believe  that  you  took  a lot  of  bonds  somewhere,  that  you  told 
no  one  of  your  intention,  and  yet  that  somebody  knew  it  and  met 
you  in  a hallway  on  Wall  Street  and  chloroformed  you.  Don’t 
you  see  how  absurd  and  unlikely  it  all  is  ? Why  your  story  is  so 
flimsy  that  it  won’t  hang  together  vfor  an  instant.  Your  trick 
wouldn’t  deceive  a child,  even.” 

My  outburst  staggered  him  ; and  in  a few  minutes  he  confessed 
the  whole  thing.  He  had  bought  some  land  with  the  bonds, 
and  so  did  not  have  money  enough  to  meet  the  note  which  he  had 
given  his  groceryman. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 


A POT  POURRI  OF  CRIMES. — A BLOODY  ASSASSINATION  IN  FRONT  OF 

Sutherland’s  restaurant. — the  muffled  groan  of  “ mur- 
der ! ” — HIGHWAY  ROBBERS  IN  A THIRD  AVENUE  CAR. — GAR- 
ROTED  IN  THE  FOURTH  AVENUE  TUNNEL. — A THIEF  TRIPPED 
UP  BY  A SERVANT  GIRL. — THE  RICH  MAN’S  SON  WHO  SHOT  A 
LAWYER. — GRADY,  THE  MASCULINE  RIVAL  OF  MADAME  MANDEL- 
BAUM. — A RASCALLY  THEOLOGIAN. 

I do  not  remember  a bloodier  assassination  than  that  of  Nicho- 
las W.  Duryea  by  John  E.  Simmons,  outside  Sutherland’s  res- 
taurant on  Liberty  Street;  on  the  16th  of  December,  1872.  Dur- 
yea represented  a Brooklyn  clique  of  policy  players.  Simmons 
was  one  of  the  Simmons  Brothers — “ Eph,”  John  E.  and  Wil- 
liam C. — who  conducted  a Kentucky  lottery  at  No.  17  Liberty 
Street.  There  had  been  bad  blood  between  Duryea  and  Sim- 
mons for  some  time.  On  the  evening  in  question  they  were  to 
have  a business  talk,  and  settle  some  important  matters. 

What  really  occurred  at  this  interview  will  never  fully  be 
known.  It  was  certainly  not  satisfactory  to  Simmons,  for  when 
the  two  men  left  the  office  they  came  to  blows.  In  the  struggle 
both  men  fell,  Simmons  being  the  “ under  dog.”  They  rolled  on 
the  sidewalk  for  half  a minute,  when  Duryea  cried  out : 

“ G — d d you,  fight  fair ! Let  me  up  ! ” 

Simmons’s  only  response  was  to  draw  a huge,  glittering  bowie- 
knife,  sharp  as  a razor  on  both  edges.  With  a pumping  motion, 
he  thrust  the  shining  weapon  into  Duryea’s  body  as  often  as  the 
nervous  motion  of  the  assassin’s  arm  would  permit. 

“ Golly  ! it  was  red  hot ! ” said  a little  boot-black  afterward,  who 
was  asked  to  describe  the  fight  to  the  coroner’s  jury. 

After  the  first  lunge  of  the  knife  Duryea  said  little.  When  his 
opponent  continued  to  stab,  there  was  a muffled  groan  of  “ mur- 
der ! ” and  Duryea  offered  no  further  resistance.  Simmons  tried 
to  rise,  but  the  stabbing  had  been  so  fierce  and  so  promiscuous 
that  nearly  all  the  life-blood  in  Duryea’s  body  had  been  let  out, 

467 


468 


A MOCK  INQUEST. 


and  the  sidewalk  was  covered  with  the  slippery  crimson  fluid.  In 
rising,  Simmons  slipped  in  his  foe’s  blood  and  fell  and  fractured 
one  of  his  ankles.  This  did  not  prevent  him  from  shrieking  ex- 
ultingly  over  his  bleeding  victim 

“ Now  I’ve  got  the  best  of  you  ! ” 

He  was  led  to  a chair  in  Sutherland’s  restaurant,  sat  down  and 
calmly  awaited  arrest.  The  horrible  tragedy  and  his  own  per- 
sonal peril  did  not  appear  to  affect  him  nearly  as  much  as  the 
condition  of  his  ankle.  He  repeatedly  asked  when  the  surgeon 
would  come,  and  when  an  officer  walked  into  the  restaurant  and 
made  him  a prisoner,  he  asked  whiningly  when  he  could  be  at- 
tended to.  He  had  to  be  carried  to  the  Second  Precinct  station- 
house,  where  Captain  Caff  fey  was  in  command.  Duryea’s  body 
had  been  taken  there,  and  was  a hideous  sight.  Before  the  com- 
bat he  had  been  splendidly  attired  in  the  finest  linen,  with  dia- 
monds in  his  shirt  front,  a $100  overcoat  with  a fur  collar  on  his 
back  and  patent  leather  boots  on  his  feet.  Now  he  was  one  mass 
of  gore.  Blood  flowed  from  sixteen  wounds. 

Dr.  F.  Le  Roy  Satterlee  attended  Simmons’s  foot,  and  sent  him 
to  the  Park  Hospital  under  guard.  The  knife  with  which  the 
deed  was  committed  was  not  found  until  lanterns  were  procured ; 
and  it  was  then  discovered  that  Simmons’s  energy  had  been  so 
great  that  the  keen  point  of  the  weapon  had  been  broken  off  in 
Duryea’s  body. 

Simmons  had  many  daring  friends,  and  a plot  was  arranged  to 
take  him  by  force  from  the  Park  Hospital.  This  plan  was  frus- 
trated by  his  being  removed  to  Bellevue  under  a strong  guard. 
By  no  means  discouraged,  his  friends  influenced  Coroner  Patsy 
Keenan  to  hold  a mock  inquest  at  the  hospital.  Simmons,  how- 
ever, was  not  smart  enough  to  get  out  of  town,  possibly  because 
the  bones  of  his  ankle  were  not  entirely  knitted.  So  District 
Attorney  Samuel  B.  Garvin  was  able  to  override  the  coroner  and 
get  the  murderer  re-arrested.  He  was  tried,  convicted  and  served 
an  inadequate  term  in  the  State  prison.  He  is  now  a gambler  in 
this  city. 

Among  the  special  instances  I remember  of  unusual  boldness 
and  cleverness  on  the  part  of  thieves  was  a robbery  which  oc- 
curred down  in  Nassau  Street  early  in  the  year  1878. 

The  circumstances  were  these  : The  clerk  of  James  H.  Young, 
a broker  whose  place  of  business  was  in  this  street,  was  busy  late 


THE  “ TUNNEL  ROBBERY.” 


469 


one  afternoon  cutting  coupons  from  bonds.  There  was  no  one 
else  in  the  office  at  the  time,  until  two  well  dressed  and  gentle- 
manly looking  men  entered  and  informed  the  clerk  that  there  was 
a lame  gentleman  at  the  door,  who,  owing  to  his  infirmity,  could 
not  get  up  the  steps  from  the  carriage  in  which  he  was,  and 
wished  to  see  the  clerk  outside.  Knowing  that  one  of  the  firm's 
customers  was  lame  and  supposing  the  young  men  to  be  his 
friends,  the  clerk  went  down  to  the  door  without  locking  desk  or 
safe.  When  he  returned  the  young  men  were  missing,  and  so 
were  $8000  in  cash  and  $80,000  in  bonds. 

Another  instance  which  fell  under  my  official  observation  was 
the  robbery  of  a Third  Avenue  street-car  on  the  morning  of  August 
22,  1880.  Car  No.  14  was  passing  through  the  Bowery  at  about 
daybreak.  When  it  had  reached  Prince  Street  six  determined 
looking  men  boarded  it.  One  of  them  covered  the  driver  with 
the  muzzle  of  a cocked  revolver,  while  another  paid  the  same 
attention  to  the  conductor,  at  the  same  time  varying  his  occupa- 
tion by  relieving  his  terrified  victim  of  all  the  money  he  had  on 
his  person.  The  other  four  men  went  inside  the  car,  and  with 
revolvers  cocked  and  pointed  robbed  the  twenty-six  passengers  of 
what  money  and  valuables  they  had  about  them.  One  passenger 
was  brave  enough  to  make  resistance,  but  in  the  struggle  which 
followed  he  was  seriously  injured.  A policeman  was  aroused  by 
the  unusual  scene  in  the  car  and  came  up  trn  a run  to  where  it 
was  standing.  The  highway  robbers,  however,  had  about  made 
their  rounds,  and  without  stopping  to  greet  the  policeman,  they 
grabbed  their  booty  tighter  and  darted  at  full  speed  down  one  of 
the  streets  which  enter  into  the  Bowery.  They  escaped. 

There  was  wild  excitement  on  East  Thirty-eighth  Street  at 
about  the  noon  hour  on  January  15,  1883.  The  occasion  of  it  was 
what  is  known  in  police  tradition  as  the  tunnel  robbery.  It  was 
a bold  and  outrageous  attempt  to  steal  money,  and  for  some  time 
afterward  produced  a feeling  of  nervousness  among  the  female 
residents  of  Murray  Hill. 

Miss  Christina  Isherwood,  of  No.  in  East  Thirty-sixth  Street, 
a daughter  of  the  chief  engineer  in  the  United  States  Navy,  and 
her  cousin,  Miss  Carpenter,  of  Auburn,  N.  Y.,  started  out  just 
after  twelve  o’clock  for  Fifty-seventh  Street.  They  proposed  to 
take  a Fourth  Avenue  car,  and  Miss  Carpenter  ran  ahead  to  stop 
it,  while  her  companion  came  on  more  leisurely  behind.  When 


47© 


A NEGRO  IN  THE  CLOSET. 


the  latter  had  reached  the  first  landing  in  descending  the  stone 
steps  leading  to  the  Fourth  Avenue  tunnel,  a man  sprang  up  the 
stairway  and  grabbed  at  the  bag  which  Miss  Isherwood  held  in 
her  right  hand,  and  which  contained  a pair  of  opal  earrings  set 
with  diamonds,  and  $30  in  coin.  The  young  lady  clutched  the 
bag  more  tightly,  and  the  thief  tried  the  harder  to  wrench  it  from 
her  grasp.  She  screamed  and  struggled ; whereupon  he  seized 
her  by  the  throat  and  forced  her  down  upon  the  steps.  At  this 
her  hold  on  the  bag  was  relaxed  and  the  robber  rushed  off  with  it. 

Both  of  the  young  women  started  in  pursuit.  A man  joined 
them  and  all  three  rushed  down  Thirty-eighth  Street  towards 
Third  Avenue.  Passers  by  stopped  to  see  what  this  unusual  sight 
was  going  on  and  then  joined  the  pursuers.  A servant  girl  who 
was  sweeping  the  sidewalk  in  front  of  one  of  the  residences 
farther  down  the  street,  saw  the  thief  coming  and  slyly  putting 
out  her  broom  tripped  him  up.  He  fell  on  his  knees,  but 
recovered  himself  at  once  and  rushed  on.  At  Lexington  Avenue 
he  was  lost  sight  of. 

The  robbery  was  reported  at  the  police  station  in  Thirty-fifth 
Street,  and  Captain  Ryan  and  his  detectives  came  to  me  for  aid. 
I sent  several  of  the  detectives  from  police  headquarters  to  the 
spot  where  the  robbery  took  place.  They  soon  learned  that  a 
man  answering  to  the  thief’s  description  had  been  seen  loitering 
about  the  tunnel  for  a day  or  two.  It  was  also  learned  that  the 
thief  while  being  pursued  ran  into  a barber  shop  at  Third  Avenue 
and  Thirty-sixth  Street.  He  walked  rapidly  through  the  shop, 
passed  out  of  a rear  door,  crossed  a small  yard,  and  entered  the 
back  door  of  a liquor  store  in  Third  Avenue.  From  there  all 
trace  of  him  was  lost  for  some  time. 

The  people  living  in  the  apartment  house  at  Thirty-second 
Street  and  Broadway  were  startled  on  the  night  of  Saturday, 
March  8,  1884,  when  they  were  informed  of  a dastardly  attempt 
at  robbery  which  had  been  undertaken  in  the  building. 

A Miss  Harvey  and  her  little  niece  were  living  in  the  rooms 
rented  by  Mr.  George  H.  Sloane.  In  the  absence  of  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Sloane  on  the  evening  in  question,  Miss  Harvey  and  her 
niece  went  early  to  bed.  They  had  no  sooner  retired  than  through 
the  dim  light  a negro  emerged  from  a closet  in  the  room  and 
stealthily  stole  toward  the  bed.  He  seized  the  woman  by  the 
throat  and  gagged  her,  then  dragged  her  from  the  bed,  threw 


WM.  C.  RHINELANDER. 


471 


her  on  the  floor,  and  bound  her  wrists  together  behind  her  back. 
The  black  thief  then  proceeded  to  ransack  the  apartment  for 
plunder.  Nervously  he  picked  up  whatever  valuables  he  could 
find  and  thrust  them  into  a bag  which  he  was  carrying.  Then  he 
disappeared. 

At  n.30  o’clock  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Sloane  returned  to  find  the  room 
turned  topsy-turvy,  Miss  Harvey  stretched  on  the  floor  uncon- 
scious, and  the  silver  missing.  A physician  was  summoned  and 
the  stricken  lady  was  soon  restored.  Then  it  became  time  to 
look  for  the  thief.  Detective  Price  was  summoned  and  as  soon 
as  he  had  arrived  he  heard  Miss  Harvey’s  story.  The  dining- 
room window  opened  out  on  a fire-escape.  When  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Sloane  had  arrived  they  had  found  that  one  of  the  doors  to  this 
window  was  open.  Through  this  Detective  Price  walked,  and 
found  at  his  feet  a pillow-case  with  $ 600  worth  of  silver  in  it.  He 
climbed  up  the  fire-escape  to  the  room  of  a servant  girl,  where  he 
found,  crouched  under  the  bed,  a negro,  Jesse  Williams,  twenty- 
one  years  old.  He  was  handcuffed  and  taken  to  the  station- 
house.  The  servant,  Gertrude  L.  Ash,  was  also  looked  up.  She 
had  had  the  negro  in  her  room  for  several  days,  and  had  been 
noticed  pouring  hot  water  on  the  fire-escape  in  the  morning, 
apparently  for  the  purpose  of  melting  the  ice  which  had  frozen  on 
the  iron  work. 

A shooting  affray  occurred  in  June,  1884,  which  while  not  pos- 
sessing remarkable  interest  in  itself,  afterward  gained  some  impor- 
tance from  the  course  the  affair  took  in  court.  I refer  to  the 
shooting  of  John  Drake  by  William  C.  Rhinelander  on  June  17. 
Rhinelander  was  a wayward  son.  He  belonged  to  the  wealthy 
and  aristocratic  old  Rhinelander  family  but  scarcely  upheld  the 
dignity  of  the  name.  He  married  a servant  girl,  named  Maggie 
McGinnis,  whereupon  his  father  disinherited  him,  and  allowed 
him  $100  a week.  Rhinelander  fancied  that  Drake,  who  was  a 
lawyer,  stood  between  him  and  his  wife,  and  with  this  idea  he 
threatened  vengeance. 

On  the  day  in  question  Rhinelander  and  Drake  were  seated 
talking  in  the  latter’s  office,  at  No.  79  Cedar  Street,  when  sud- 
denly the  former  raised  a pistol  and  shot  the  lawyer  in  the  shoul- 
der. Drake  grappled  with  this  lowly  son  of  an  aristocratic  fam- 
ily, and  held  him  until  assistance  came.  He  pinped- Rhinelander 
against  the  wall,  and  held  his  hands  above  his  head.  The  lawyer 


47  2 


THE  burglars’  banker. 


finally  wrenched  the  pistol  from  Rhinelander’s  grasp.  By  this 
time  George  Douglas  had  arrived  on  the  scene.  Drake  ex- 
claimed, “ I’m  shot  .!  ” 

“ I’ll  send  for  a policeman,”  said  Douglas. 

“ No,”  said  Drake,  “ hold  him,  and  let  the  boy  run  for  a doc- 
tor.” 

By  this  time  Drake  was  exhausted.  Dr.  Peck  found  him  in  a 
state  of  collapse  from  the  shock,  but  the  patient  soon  rallied. 
The  ball  had  shattered  the  bone  in  the  shoulder  joint  of  the  right 
arm.  Mr.  Drake  refused  to  have  Rhinelander  arrested,  and  he 
was  taken  away  by  his  uncle,  H.  Cruger  Oakley.  Finally,  how- 
ever, he  was  arrested  and  taken  to  the  Tombs  prison  to  await  the 
result  of  Drake’s  injuries.  Drake  recovered  ostensibly,  but  died 
about  a year  afterward  from  another  cause.  Rhinelander’s  rela- 
tives tried  to  make  him  out  a lunatic,  and  several  commissions 
were  appointed  to  determine  his  mental  soundness.  The  accused 
man  was  finally  discharged,  and  with  his  wife  sailed  almost  imme- 
diately for  Europe. 

From  1865  to  1880  no  face  was  more  familiar  at  police  head- 
quarters, at  the  district  attorney’s  office,  at  the  courts,  in  private 
houses,  in  the  streets,  and  in  short  everywhere,  than  that  of  the 
eccentric  and  cunning  dealer  in  “collateral,”  and  the  felons’ 
banker — John  D.  Grady.  He  was  always  shabby,  always  carried 
a satchel,  and  never,  in  late  years,  had  less  than  $io,doo  worth  of 
property  in  it  and  his  pockets.  It  would  have  been  a safe  bet  in 
a bar-room,  when  Grady  was  present,  to  wager  that  at  least  one 
of  the  crowd  could  show  a genuine  one  thousand  dollar  note. 
Grady  would  have  been  worth  to  the  community  at  least  a hun- 
dred thousand  dollars  as  a detective ; that  is  to  say,  such  an 
amount  would  have  been  only  ten  per  cent,  of  the  saving  to  citi- 
zens and  institutions,  from  burglaries,  sneak  thieving  and  the 
higher  grades  of  dishonesty. 

Beginning  in  a small  way  as  a pedler  of  “pinchbeck,”  Grady 
took  up  “ collateral  ” as  a business,  and  found  that  it  paid  better 
to  deal  with  criminals  and  make  from  150  to  200  per  cent,  than 
to  go  down  to  Maiden  Lane,  take  the  risks  and  chances  of  de- 
pression in  stock,  and  make  from  ten  to  twenty  per  cent.  Besides 
he  thus  became  interested  in  other  lines  of  business.  He  had 
mastered  the  jewelry  trade.  No  one  could  judge  the  precious 
stones  and  metals  better  than  he.  He  could  make  a watch,  and 


A RIVAL  TO  MRS.  MANDELBAUM. 


473 


not  infrequently  was  called  upon  to  give  expert  opinion  to  honest 
tradesmen,  who  knew  perfectly  well  that  it  was  among  the  not 
very  remote  possibilities  that  some  day  he  might  be  walking 
around  with  part  of  their  stock  in  his  satchel.  The  new  lines  of 
business  consisted  in  “banking”  for  forgers,  bank  “cracksmen” 
and  plunderers  generally. 

He  became  a sort  of  masculine  rival  to  Madame  Mandelbaum. 
There  was  a species  of  armed  neutrality  between  them  ; they  were 
civil  when  they  met,  and  occasionally  transacted  “business”  with 
one  another.  But  they  were  rivals  so  far  as  influence  over  the 
creme  de  la  creme  of  felons  was  concerned.  Grady  now  and  then 
took  care  of  the  proceeds  of  bank  burglaries.  In  one  case  he 
held  half  a million  dollars’  worth  of  securities  until  negotiations 
with  the  losers  had  terminated,  when  he  delivered  up  the  booty 
and  received  a heavy  percentage.  He  occasionally  tried  his  hand 
at  disposing  of  stolen  bonds.  In  1874,  while  conducting  negotia- 
tions in  the  Ninth  Ward  with  the  notorious  Jimmy  Brady,  he  was 
surprised  by  detectives  Dilkes  and  Tully.  Grady  surrendered. 
Brady  ran,  firing  at  Dilkes,  who  returned  the  fire  and  captured 
him  after  wounding  him  in  the  thigh  as  he  jumped  through  a store 
window.  Both  were  tried,  but  Grady  went  scot-free,  while  Brady 
was  sent  to  Sing  Sing.  He  was  helped  out  of  this  little  difficulty 
by  means  of  tools  furnished  by  Grady,  which  enabled  him  to 
escape  from  confinement. 

It  is  estimated  that  in  Grady’s  career  as  a pedler,  receiver, 
negotiator  and  banker,  he  handled  in  one  way  and  another  $4,000,- 
000  in  property,  securities  and  cash. 

Brady  turned  out  an  ingrate.  After  his  escape  from  Sing  Sing  he 
owed  Grady  about  $12,000.  Grady,  of  course,  wished  to  recoup 
himself;  but  Brady  was  very  lazy,  found  another  banker  and 
wouldn’t  go  to  “work.”  His  new  banker  got  tired  of  him.  He 
returned  to  Grady  and  got  $2000  more  from  him  by  threaten- 
ing, cajoling  and  promising.  Then  when  Grady  showed  a dispo- 
sition to  close  the  account,  Brady  raised  a pistol  to  his  head  and 
made  him  hand  over  $2000  in  cash.  This  little  adventure  was  the 
indirect  cause  of  Brady’s  downfall.  He  went  to  work  at  his  crimi- 
nal pursuits  with  a vengeance,  and  Grady  kept  himself  thoroughly 
posted  as  to  his  friend’s  movements. 

In  1878  Brady  and  his  confederates  had  been  so  fortunate  that 
a dividend  was  decided  upon.  A private  room  was  hired  at  the 


GRADY  IN  TROUBLE. 


475 


Hotel  Brunswick,  and  each  of  the  men  present  pocketed  $40,000. 
Brady  celebrated  the  occasion  by  getting  hilariously  drunk.  When 
he  left  the  hotel  he  decided  that  nothing  but  silk  underwear  was 
good  enough  for  him.  He  staggered  into  a furnishing  store  at 
Twenty  third  Street  and  Broadway,  selected  several  hundred  dol- 
lars’ worth  of  goods,  and  all  would  have  gone  well  but  for  his  habit 
of  taking  that  which  Aid  not  belong  to  him.  He  secreted  in  his 
pockets  some  articles  of  trifling  value.  The  storekeeper  detected 
him  and  remonstrated.  Brady,  as  was  said  before,  was  drunk,  and 
misapprehended  the  situation.  He  afterwards  said  he  thought  he 
was  “ in  a bank  row.”  He  therefore  fled  like  a deer.  The  store- 
keeper pursued  and  policemen  joined  in  the  chase.  Brady  remem- 
bered that  he  had  a pistol  in  his  pocket  and  began  to  fire  away. 
After  about  a dozen  shots  had  been  fired  by  him  and  the  police,  he 
was  captured.  Then  Grady  had  him.  He  instigated  and  aided 
the  prosecution.  So  it  came  about  that  Brady  went  back  to  Sing 
Sing  prison  under  a heavy  sentence  for  a miserable  little  theft  of 
which  a “ clothes  liner  ” would  have  been  ashamed. 

During  his  career,  Grady  consorted  with  the  following  criminals : 
“ Sheeney  Mike,”  Billy  O’Brien,  Johnny  Irving,  “ Johnny,  the  Mick,” 
“Shang”  Draper,  Bob  Scott,  “ Red  ” Leary,  Billy  Conners,  James 
Dunlap,  Johnny  Dobbs,  “Sheeney”  Rose,  Sam  Perris,  Abe 
Coakley,  George  Leonidas  Leslie,  Pete  Curley,  “ Big  Frank  ” 
McCoy,  George  Miles,  Ike  Marsh,  Ed.  Goodie,  Joe  Dollard,  Geo. 
Mason,  and  a hundred  others. 

In  later  years — the  last  two  of  his  life — Grady  was  in  trouble. 
Men  who  had  protected  him  had  died,  or  had  become  impotent ; 
criminals  whom  he  had  dealt  with,  or  banked  for,  had  been  impris- 
oned or  become  no  longer  useful.  He  was  sued  by  persons  who 
had  good  reason  to  believe  that  property  taken  from  them  had 
found  its  way  into  his  hands ; and  persons  who  knew  his  secrets 
had  extorted  blood-money  from  him,  until  all  his  fortune,  which 
was  once  estimated  at  $1,500,000,  had  dwindled  down  to  less  than 
$100,000.  He  died  of  pneumonia  at  his  office,  No.  403  Sixth  Ave- 
nue, in  October,  1880.  He  was  then  in  partnership  with  a man 
who  had  been  in  a similar  line  of  business ; but  for  months  the  firm 
had  pretended  to  do  what  they  termed  a “legitimate  business.” 
When  the  public  administrator  settled  the  estate,  the  amount  of  it 
was  below  $45,000.  Taking  Grady’s  own  words  as  a basis,  this  was 


476 


A CLERICAL  SCANDAL. 


a shrinkage  since  1875  of  about  $ 200,000 . He  always  said  he 
never  had  had  any  luck  since  he  quarrelled  with  “Jim  ” Brady. 

In  1880,  much  scandal  was  caused  at  Tournai,  Belgium,  by  the 
antagonism  between  two  ecclesiastics — Monsieur  Dumont  and 
Monsieur  Du  Rousseaux — because  the  latter  had  succeeded  the 
former  as  bishop,  through  Pope  Leo,  who  was  compelled  to  sus- 
pend Monsieuj  Dumont.  One  cause  of  Dumont’s  suspension  was 
his  great  age;  he  was  in  his  dotage,  and  peevish  and  quarrelsome 
in  the  extreme.  There  was  an  unseemly  wrangle  between  the  two 
ecclesiastics  for  many  months,  mainly  owing  to  a refusal  of  Mon- 
sieur Rousseaux  to  give  up  certain  property  which  Dumont  de- 
manded. In  order  to  have  the  property  in  question,  which  con- 
sisted of  valuable  church  plate  and  two  millions  or  more  of 
francs,  amply  protected,  Monsieur  Rousseaux  prevailed  on  the 
authorities  at  Rome  to  appoint  the  canon,  Leon  J.  Bernard,  as 
treasurer  of  the  diocese.  He  immediately  took  the  treasure  to  his 
own  house,  and  kept  it  in  safes  procured  for  the  purpose. 

In  March,  1881,  the  canon  concluded  to  lay  up  for  himself  treas- 
ures on  earth,  and  ran  off  with  the  money  just  as  Monsieur  Du- 
mont had  made  an  application  to  have  the  property  and  money  in- 
ventoried, so  as  to  furnish  a ground  for  action  against  Monsieur 
Rousseaux.  The  flight  of  the  canon  caused  such  apprehension 
and  scandal  that  Monsieur  Rousseaux  and  the  clergy  o'f  the  diocese 
decided  for  a time  to  keep  the  matter  a secret,  hoping  to  find  out 
the  whereabouts  of  the  erring  brother  and  bring  him  to  terms. 

For  this  purpose  another  canon  was  sent  to  follow  Bernard,  who 
had  been  traced  to  New  York.  All  clue  to  him  in  this  city  was 
lost,  until  a lawyer  opened  negotiations  with  the  ecclesiastical  au- 
thorities from  Quebec,  and  tried  to  arrange  with  Dumont  on  a 
basis  of  60  per  cent,  of  the  stolen  money  for  the  Monsieur  and  40 
per  cent,  for  the  lawyer  and  embezzler.  This  offer  was  refused. 
The  lawyer  was  arrested  and  was  -held  as  a sort  of  hostage  for 
Bernard.  This  arrest  of  the  lawyer  led  to  the  discovery  of  some 
of  the  stolen  money.  Two  hundred  thousand  francs  of  it  were 
found  at  the  Credit  Lyonnais  in  Paris,  and  one  hundred  thousand 
francs  in  a London  bank.  These  amounts  were  seized ; but  Ber- 
nard, meanwhile,  had  again  disappeared.  The  Belgian  authorities 
communicated  with  the  Belgian  minister  at  Washington,  and  Mr. 
Mali,  the  Belgian  consul-general  here,  was  given  charge  of  the 
case.  He  engaged  the  firm  of  Condert  Brothers,  who  came  to  po- 


A WEARY  CHASE, 


477 


lice  headquarters  and  conferred  with  me.  The  case  was  turned 
over  to  Inspector  Byrnes.  His  choice  was  excellent  when  he  se- 
lected Detective  Joseph  Dorcy  to  hunt  up  the  rascally  monk. 

All  that  the  detective  had  to  start  with  was  a good  description 
of  the  man.  He  hunted  around  the  hotels  in  this  city  until  he 
found  that  in  June,  1881,  Bernard  had  stopped  at  the  Fifth  Avenue 
Hotel.  From  this  point  he  traced  him  to  Boston,  Montreal,  and 
Quebec.  Here  the  trail  ended  for  a time.  It  was  picked  up  at 
Chicago,  where  Bernard  was  on  the  25th  of  March,  1882.  Dorcy 
wasted  much  time  in.  the  West,  in  endeavoring  to  track  Bernard 
from  Chicago.  He  finally  found  a clue  in  Montgomery,  Alabama, 
and  went  thence  to  Mobile  and  New  Orleans.  Here  the  scent 
was  pretty  fresh.  Bernard,  under  the  name  of  Leopold  Bal,  had 
lived  at  No.  193  Canal  Street,  and  had  the  imprudence  to  get  pho- 
tographed. A copy  of  this  photograph  fell  into  the  hands  of  the 
detective,  and  was  useful  to  him,  because  the  canon  had  somewhat 
changed  in  appearance.  “ Bal  ” had  left  New  Orleans  just,  eight- 
een days  before  Dorcy’s  arrival.  The  detective  found  that  the  man 
he  was  pursuing  had  taken  tickets  for  Houston,  Texas.  This  led 
him  to  Galveston,  Houston,  San  Anttmio,  Little  Rock,  Hot  Springs, 
Memphis,  Selma,  Texarkana  and  Waco. 

At  the  last  named  place,  the  train  on  which  Dorcy  was  riding 
was  stopped  by  a freshet  having  washed  away  a bridge  and  part  of 
the  track.  It  was  a wild,  desolate  region,  with  no  hotels  and  few 
inhabitants.  The  weather  was  of  the  worst.  The  only  shelter 
Dorcy  could  find  was  a miserable  hut,  and  there  he  subsisted  for 
three  days  on  the  staple  food  of  the  district — hoe  cake  and  salted 
horse.  Tired  of  losing  time  in  this  manner,  Dorcy  decided  to  go 
back  to  Texarkana,  and  was  compelled  to  walk  the  greater  part  of 
the  way,  knee  deep  in  mud,  and  obliged  to  ford  two  streams. 
From  Texarkana,  Dorcy  hurried  back  to  New  Orleans.  He  had 
been  in  the  city  but  a few  hours  when  he  picked  up  a capital  clew 
at  the  office  of  the  Morgan  Steamship  Company.  It  told  him  that 
Bernard  had  dodged  him  in  Texas,  had  come  back  to  New  Orleans 
and  had  taken  tickets  for  Vera  Cruz,  Mexico.  Dorcv  made  the 
best  of  his  way  to  the  City  of  Mexico.  He  learned  from  a passen- 
ger who  saw  Bernard  on  the  ship  which  he  took  from  Mexico,  and 
who  remembered  well,  that  on  shore  the  rascal  was  exceedingly 
anxious  to  get  to  the  City  of  Mexico. 

There  Dorcy  found  the  hotel  in  which  Bernard  had  lodged  as 


478 


CAUGHT  AT  LAST. 


“ L.  Brown.”  He  left  it  on  May  io,  1882,  giving  instructions  for 
his  letters  to  be  sent  to  San  Luis  de  Potosi  up  to  the  25th  of  June ; 
and  up  to  July  10,  to  the  City  of  Leon.  This,  however,  was  sim- 
ply a ruse  on  the  part  of  Bernard  to  throw  possible  pursuers  off  the 
scent.  It  resulted  in  Dorcy  losing  all  track  of  him,  although  he 
searched  thoroughly  in  Pueblo  de  los  Angeles,  Orizaba  and  Cor- 
dova. He  was  almost  in  despair  when,  on  the  19th  of  June,  he  ar- 
rived at  Vera  Cruz.  Here  he  discovered  that  Bernard  had  taken 
passage  for  Havana  on  June  2,  as  “J.  Lyon.”  Dorcy  consulted 
a steam-boat  guide,  and  knowing  that  Bernard  had  a passport  for 
St.  Thomas,  readily  understood  that  as  the  steamer  left  Havana 
on  the  2 1 st  of  June  for  that  place,  he  had  but  little  time  to  spare. 
The  telegraph  was  called  into  requisition,  and  a despatch  sent  to 
the  Governor  of  Havana  resulted  in  Bernard’s  capture  just  as  he 
was  leaving  his  hotel  to  go  on  board  the  steamer.  He  had  in  his 
possession  $ 20,000 , and  keys  for  thirteen  safe  depositories  in  the 
United  States  and  Canada,  where  he  had  secreted  the  stolen 
money.  In  his  travels  he  had  become  well  versed  in  methods  of 
arrest  and  extradition,  and  had  copies  of  the  various  extradition 
laws,  as  well  as  blank  forms  of  writs  of  habeas  corpus , ready  for 
any  emergency. 

Dorcy  took  the  next  steamer  for  Havana,  sympathized  with  Ber- 
nard, and  returned  to  New  York.  Bernard  was  sent  to  Madrid 
first,  and  thence  to  Belgium,  where  he  was  tried  and  convicted. 
All  the  money  stolen  by  him,  with  the  exception  of  a few  thousand 
dollars,  was  recovered. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 


THE  DIVES  OF  NEW  YORK. — FROM  THE  HAYMARKET  TO  THE  MORGUE 
IN  THE  CREMORNE. — TOM  GOULD’S  DIVE. — HARRY  HILL’S  THE- 
ATRE.— AT  THE  AMERICAN  MABILLE. — VICE  IN  THE  BLACK-AND- 
TAN. — THE  CAN-CAN  IN  ITS  GLORY.— —BILLY  MCGLORY’s  SYSTEM. 
— THE  WRECK  OF  A WOMAN. — THE  SAILORS’  DIVES. — A FRENCH 
BALL. 

The  dives  of  New  York  are  the  hot-beds  of  its  crime.  Under 
the  brilliant  glare  of  gas-jets  and  the  seductive  strains  of  music  vice 
germinates,  grows,  buds  and  yields  its  bitter  fruit.  Every  stage  of 
crime  is  reflected  in  a true  picture  of  these  holes  of  viciousness. 
The  “ dance  of  death  ” begins  with  the  Haymarket,  grows  feeble  in 
“ Billy  McGlory’s,”  or  the  “ Black-and-Tan,”  and  ends  in  the  river 
or  the  potter’s  field.  A pure  girl  who  visits  the  Haymarket,  if  such 
a one  ever  does  visit  it,  attracted  by  the  gay  scenes  and  the  fasci- 
nation of  the  waltz,  may  feel  sure  of  her  own  power  to  keep  from 
going  lower  in  the  scale  of  sensuality ; but  as  surely  as  a displaced 
stone  goes  tumbling  down  a hillside,  she  rushes  onward  to  the 
black  fate  which  awaits  her,  and  virtue,  youth,  beauty,  health  and 
soul  are  lost  in  the  downward  course  to  ruin.  A terrible  fate  it  is, 
yet  many  are  they  who  reach  it  yearly. 

New  York  is  well  provided  with  what  is  commonly  known  as 
dives,  although  fortunately,  under  the  awakening  moral  sense  of 
the  community,  some  of  the  more  notorious  dens  of  iniquity  are 
being  closed.  There  are  enough  left,  however,  to  amuse  and  cor- 
rupt the  crowds  which  nightly  flock  to  them.  For  the  uninitiated 
let  it  be  said  that  by  dives  is  meant,  in  general,  the  dance-halls  in 
various  parts  of  the  town,  where  abandoned  women  congregate  to 
try  their  charms  on  easily  tempted  men.  These  dance-halls  are 
all  more  or  less  alike.  They  vary  only  in  the  classes  of  people  pat- 
ronizing them.  I will  not  say  they  vary  in  the  degree  of  vice  car- 

479 


480  TYRANTS  OF  THE  WORST  SORT. 

ried  on,  for  I believe  there  is  as  much  wickednes  in  the  Cremorne 
and  Haymarket  and  Tom  Gould’s,  as  in  the  low  resorts  down  town. 
They  all  have  music  and  dancing  and  female  attaches  and  gaudily 
decorated  halls,  and  liquors.  One  of  these  attractions  would  be 
worthless  without  the  others.  All  taken  together  make  a combina- 
tion which  many  men  find  it  hard  to  resist. 

The  men  who  own  and  run  such  places  are  sui  genet  is — of  their 
own  kind.  From  the  enormous  amount  of  their  ill-gotten  gains 
they  are  able  to  own  expensive  houses  and  live  in  extravagant 
style.  Beneath  their  smiling  features  there  is  the  consciousness, 
no,  perhaps  not  the  consciousness,  but  at  least  the  remembrance  of 
almost  every  sort  of  crime.  Conscience  is  a foreign  word  to  men 
of  this  foul  business.  Honest  and  generous  are  they  sometimes 
called  ? Well,  yes,  when  it  pays.  They  are  tyrants  of  the  wrorst 
sort.  The  women  who  frequent  their  resorts  are  not  their  accom- 
plices in  iniquity,  but  their  tools.  They  use  them  as  travelling 
show'men  do  a trained  bear— prod  them  when  they  refuse  to  dance 
or  when  they  become  useless,  treat  them  as  we  do  faded  flowers 
— throw  them  into  the  gutter  to  die. 

In  order  that  the  full  significance  of  the  evil  influence  which  sur- 
rounds these  places  may  be  appreciated,  I have  thought  it  best  to 
describe  in  detail  each  of  the  better  known  dives.  Some  may  seem 
almost  too  well  known  to  need  description,  but  it  strikes  me  they 
cannot  be  made  too  familiar. 

First,  there  is  the  Haymarket,  situated  on  Sixth  Avenue,  just 
below  Thirtieth  Street.  On  the  outside  it  is  not  a particularly  or- 
nate building ; in  fact,  by  daylight  the  structure  is  rather  repulsive, 
but  then  the  Haymarket  is  only  an  ordinary  building  in  the  day- 
time. At  night  it  shines  with  the  brilliancy  of  a Broadway  theatre 
and  becomes  animate  with  the  licentious  life  of  the  avenue.  The 
easily  swinging  doors  which  open  from  the  sidewalk  creak  half  the 
night  with  the  entrance  or  exit  of  depraved  women  and  their  mas- 
culine escorts.  Let  the  reader  who  has  never  visited  this  illumi- 
nated den  go  with  me  in  imagination,  and  see  the  wicked  character 
of  the  place,  pictured  as  well  as  I am  able  to  paint  it.  At  the  en- 
trance one  reads  by  the  pale  electric  light  the  only  indication  of 
the  purposes  to  which  the  building  is  put — “ Haymarket,  Grand 
Soiree  Dansante.”  We  push  the  swinging  doors  and  pay  our  en- 
trance fee  of  twenty-five  cents  for  males,  nothing  for  females,  to  a 
man  behind  a narrow  window.  We  push  another  swinging  door 


THE  HAYMARKET. 


d.8l 

and  then  pause  to  become  accustomed  to  the  gay  glare  and  the 
whirl  of  human  figures.  We  are  in  a long  and  broad  room,  whose 
centre  is  a polished  dancing  floor.  At  the  extreme  end  is  a sort  of  a 
stage  with  a brilliantly  painted  curtain,  and  the  chairs  of  the  musi- 
cians. The  latter  are  playing  their  instruments  at  full  blast,  and 
to  the  entrancing  strains  of  a waltz  a dozen  or  more  young  men 
and  women  are  moving  in  slow  measure  over  the  floor.  Along  on 
either  side  of  the  wall  is  a row  of-seats,  and  here  we  sit  for  a few 
moments  and  look  about  us.  We  hear  the  clink  of  glasses  and 
look  up  to  discover  that  the  dancing-hall  is  not  all  of  the  Haymar- 
ket.  There  is  a gallery  above  us  and  it  seems  to  be  the  popular 
part  of  the  place.  It  is  crowded  with  men  and  women,  drinking 
and  smoking  and  filling  the  room  with  ribald  laughter  and  blasphe- 
mous words.  The  galleries  extend  around  three  sides  of  the  room  ; 
and  so  well  filled  are  they  with  the  Haymarket’s  patrons  and  patron- 
esses that  it  is  with  difficulty  that  the  waiters,  ^ho  carry  everything, 
from  lemonade  to  whiskey,  are  able  to  work  their  way  through  the 
throngs,  without  smashing  glasses  and  tipping  over  tables. 

The  galleries  are  arranged  with  tables  and  chairs,  and  on  the 
northern  side,  connected  by  passage-ways  with  the  gallery,  is  the 
bar.  There  are  tables  in  the  bar-room  also,  and  they  are  well  filled 
with  glasses,  and  surrounded  by  abandoned  women  and  the  men 
whom  they  have  “ roped  ” in.  It  does  not  take  us  long  to  discover 
that  the  attraction  of  the  Haymarket  is  not  so  much  in  its  dance 
floor  as  in  its  gallery.  It  is  here  that  the  habitues  of  the  place 
congregate,  and  mingle  vile  jokes  with  beer  and  whiskey  and  to- 
bacco smoke.  There  are  all  sorts  of  women  here.  Some  are  ex- 
tremely young  and  pretty;  others  are  fat  and  homely  and  awk- 
ward. Some  are  demure,  others  coarse  and  loud-mouthed.  Some 
have  painted  their  faces  to  hide  the  ravages  which  vice  has  been 
making  in  their  features.  Some  are  dressed  with  taste ; others 
are  arrayed  in  brilliant  colors  and  cheap  tawdry  fabrics.  Some 
even  are  bashful  and  modest  appearing,  hesitating  to  approach  the 
men  who  patronize  the  place.  Others  are  brazen  in  their  conduct. 
They  address  without  compunction  those  with  whom  they  wish  to 
talk — even  fling  their  arms  around  them  and  breathe  lascivious 
thoughts  into  their  ears. 

The  females  who  visit  the  Haymarket  range  in  age  from  seven- 
teen to  thirty-five  years,  and  most  of  them  are  not  more  than  twen- 
ty-five. They  are  most  of  them  inmates  of  disreputable  houses,  and 
3i 


482 


DEVILS  IN  FEMALE  F0P  AT. 


congregate  in  this  dance-hall  like  harpies,  to  seize  upon  and  devour 
the  weak.  The  owners  of  the  Haymarket  allow  them  free  admis- 
sion to  and  from  the. building,  and  pile  up  their  riches  by  squeezing 
the  prey  of  these  prostitutes.  The  amount  of  liquor  that  is  sold 
here  is  enormous.  Of  course  fancy  prices  are  put  on  every  drink, 
and  the  girls  who  frequent  the  place  are  supposed  to  call  for  the 
most  expensive  liquors,  and  drink  as  much  as  they  are  able. 

As  I hinted  in  the  previous  part  of  this  chapter,  I consider  the 
Haymarket  as  bad  in  its  influence  as  some  of  the  down-town  re- 
sorts. The  language  and  conversation  which  one  hears  here  are 
something  terrible  in  their  way.  I remember  once  when  I was 
obliged  to  be  in  the  place  in  an  official  capacity,  I noticed  a young 
girl  there  whose  face  was  peculiarly  sweet  and  winning.  • She  had 
an  air  of  refinement  about  her  that  at  once  distinguished  her  from 
her  companions.  She  looked  bright  and  seemed  to  talk  with  vivac- 
ity. I was  struck  by  the  girl’s  face,  and  made  up  my  mind  that  she 
must  have  been  persuaded  to  visit  the  resort  by  companions  who 
were  older  in  years  and  depravity.  My  curiosity  to  confirm  my 
good  opinion  of  her  was  great,  I admit,  and  I had  not  long  to  wait 
before  my  curiosity  was  satisfied  in  a most  shocking  manner.  The 
girl  saw  me  standing  alone  and  came  where  I was.  .She  intro- 
duced the  conversation  with  some  flippant  remark,  and  after  a 
word  or  two  in  reply  from  me,  she  launched  into  such  a tirade  of 
oaths  and  foul  speech  as  fairly  took  my  breath  away.  I was 
almost  struck  dumb.  The  shock  to  my  impressions  was  impos- 
sible to  overcome.  I have  seen  many  hardened  human  beings 
in  the  course  of  my  life,  but  the  depravity  of  none  of  them  ever 
surprised  me  as  did  the  foul  words  which  came  from  what  I sup- 
posed were  pure  lips. 

So  the  demoralizing  effect  of  the  Haymarket  is  not  in  the  actual 
crime  committed  there,  as  is  the  case  in  the  Bleecker  Street  dives 
for  instance,  but  in  the  temptations  which  are  held  out  so  seductively 
to  young  men  by  the  devils  in  female  forms  who  make  their 
homes  there. 

Not  far  from  the  Haymarket  is  another  dive  where  debauched 
women  congregate.  It  is  known  as  the  “ Cremorne,”  and  is  situ- 
ated just  west  of  Sixth  Avenue  on  Thirty-second  Street.  Out  over 
the  sidewalk  in  large,  glittering  letters  shines  the  name  of  the  con- 
cert hall.  It  must  not  be  confounded  with  that  other  institution 
which  Jerry  McAuley  founded  next  door,  and  which  goes  by  the 


THE  CREMORNE. 


483 


same  name.  That  good  man  was  bold  enough  to  pitch  his  tent 
beside  Satan’s  and  fight  with  the  devil  for  the  possession  of  souls- 
It  may  have  been  a foolish  thing  to  establish  a mission  next  door 
to  a hell,  but  that  was  what  Jerry  McAuley  did,  and  all  honor  to  his 
memory  for  his  bravery. 

The  “ Cremorne  ” dive  occupies  the  basement  or  ground  floor  of 
the  building  in  which  it  is  situated.  The  entrance  from  the  street 
leads  directly  to  the  bar,  and  through  noiselessly  swinging  doors  at 
the  other  end  of  the  hallway  comes  the  gleam  of  the  electric  light, 
and  now  and  then  the  strains  of  music.  At  the  end  of  the  bar  sits 
behind  a desk  a pompous,  well-built  man  who,  with  a face  stern 
and  defiant,  acts  as  cashier  and  general  manager.  An  ugly-looking 
club  hangs  behind  him  on  the  wall,  and  occasionally  his  duties  as 
money  changer  are  interrupted  by  those  of  the  “ bouncer.”  For 
the  men  who  come  to  his  establishment  sometimes  get  unruly,  and 
then  it  is  that  the  cashier  unbends  his  dignity  and  restores  the  “re- 
spectability” of  the.  hall  by  dexterously  clubbing  the  drunken  of- 
fender. 

The  “ Cremorne  ” is  not  a dance-hall.  There  are  women  and 
music  here,  and  all  kinds  of  liquors.  The  women  and  music  are 
attractions  brought  by  the  proprietors  to  aid  the  sale  of  liquor. 
The  concert  hall  is  a large  room  gaudily  decorated  with  mirrors 
and  bright  colors.  Here  and  there  stands  a statue,  more  notable 
for  its  nudity  than  its  artistic  merit.  A balcony  rich  in  velvet, 
and  statues  of  historic  personages  separates  the  musicians  from  the 
main  floor  of  the  hall,  which  is  covered  with  tables.  At  each  of 
these  tables  sits  one  woman  or  more,  who  remain  helpless  and 
awkward  until  they  are  joined  by  men  who  are  willing  to  pay  high 
prices  for  liquors  in  order  to  drink  them  with  these  harlots.  The 
female  attaches  of  the  “ Cremorne  ” are  usually  well  dressed,  and 
many  are  handsome  and  attractive.  They  get  a commission  on 
the  number  of  drinks  that  are  sold  under  their  influences,  and  con- 
sequently they  employ  all  their  powers  of  fascination  on  their  male 
companions.  “Ladies’  drinks”  are  all  twenty  cents  in  this  resort, 
and  no  gentleman  would  think  of  sitting  down  and  drinking  with- 
out the  companionship  of  one  or  more  of  the  females  present,  ac- 
cording to  the  etiquette  of  the  avenue. 

Here  again  the  women  are  largely  “ runners  in  ” for  the  houses 
of  disrepute  in  the  neighborhood.  They  have  more  pecuniary  re- 
sources than  the  commission  which  they  get  from  the  “ Cremorne’s  ” 


484 


TOM  GOULD’S. 


proprietors.  Some  of  these  I can  only  hint  at.  I have  no  doubt 
that  in  the  wine  rooms  which  are  connected  with  the  concert  hall 
of  the  Cremorne,  many  a man  loses  what  money  and  valuables  he 
may  have  had  in  his  pockets.  He  drinks  and  jokes  with  his  female 
companions  until  reason  and  wit  begin  to  dull.  He  enjoys  in  a low, 
sensual  way  their  pawing  over  his  face  and  whiskers,  and  notices 
naught  amiss  when  these  light  feminine  fingers  slip  into  his  pock- 
ets and  abstract  his  valuables.  He  does  see  something  wrong, 
however,  the  next  morning,  but  he  is  unable  to  account  for  it. 

Tom  Gould’s  is  another  of  the  up-town  resorts,  where  vice  is  none 
the  less  abundant  because  it  is  better  concealed.  It  is  in  Thirty- 
first  Street,  between  Broadway  and  Sixth  Avenue,  on  the  south  side 
of  the  street.  It  is  nothing  more  or  less  than  a house  of  assigna- 
tion. The  hallway  by  which  it  is  entered  leads  into  a long  room, 
at  the  end  of  which  is  a platform  used  as  a stage.  The  room  is 
decorated  with  flowers  and  potted  plants.  There  is  a bar  from 
which  all  kinds  of  liquor  are  sold.  Tables  are  scattered  about,  and, 
like  those  of  other  dives,  are  attended  by  women  of  by  no  means 
doubtful  characters.  They  are  not  as  well  dressed  as  the  fre- 
quenters of  the  Haymarket. 

On  the  stage,  negroes  and  white  men  sing  popular  songs  and  mu- 
sicians play  the  latest  operatic  airs.  The  proprietor,  Tom  Gould,  is 
rather  a good-looking  man.  He  is  about  five  feet,  seven  inches 
in  height,  has  regular  features  and  a long  mustache.  At  present 
I believe  he  is  running  his  establishment  without  a license,  and 
the  authorities  should  take  measures  to  close  it  up.  The  great 
obstacle  I experienced  when  superintendent,  in  this  as  in  other 
cases,  was  the  laxity  on  the  part  of  excise  boards  about  granting 
licenses.  It  is  well  known  that  the  former  Board  of  Excise  granted 
licenses  to  many  improper  places. 

Harry  Hill’s  is  one  of  the  least  harmful  dives  in  the  lower  part 
of  the  town.  In  saying  this,  however,  I do  not  mean  to  imply  that 
debauchery  and  crime  are  not  greatly  fostered  here.  The  gleam- 
ing diamond  on  Manager  Harry  Hill’s  shirt-front  has  probably 
reflected  rays  of  light  on  many  an  evil  deed  and  on  many  a vicious 
acf  around  him.  The  genial  proprietor’s  rotund  form  and  smooth 
shaven  face  have  made  him  almost  a demi-god  among  the  classes 
which  frequent  his  resort. 

His  notorious  place,  situated  on  Houston  Street,  one  block  east 
of  Broadway,  is  much  frequented  by  strangers  in  the  city,  and  b) 


HARRY  HILL’S. 


485 


the  residents  near  the  Bowery.  The  building  is  well  known  • a 
structure  facing  the  corner,  with  a large  brazen  eagle  surmounting 
the  entrance.  The  visitor  enters  the  bar-room  from  the  street,  and 
after  buying  his  ticket  of  admittance  to  the  concert  hall  climbs  up 
the  dark  stairs.  To  Harry  Hill’s  sense  of  personal  advantage  may 
be  attributed  the  few  disorderly  scenes  which  are  enacted  in  this 
house.  The  concert  and  dance-room  of  the  dive  is  small  and 
cramped.  There  is  no  such  wide  expanse  of  floor  for  waltzing  as 
there  is  in  the  Haymarket.  There  is  plainer  music,  too.  A small 
stage  furnishes  the  most  amusement.  A regular  program  is  pre- 
sented on  it  each  night.  It  consists  of  boxing-matches,  ballads,  bal- 
lets and  comedies.  Perhaps  a homely  woman,  dressed  in  radiant 
colors,  sings  a pathetic  song  in  a squeaky  voice,  or  a young  and  pretty 
girl  in  short  dresses  and  long  hair  puts  life  and  bathos  into  a touching 
ballad.  The  comedy  presented  is  of  the  lowest  type,  and  the  jokes 
of  the  comedians  are  coarse  and  flat.  Yet  the  open-mouthed 
spectators  stamp  their  feet  in  applause,  and  many  a rustic  heart  is 
touched  with  emotion  by  the  forced  and  creaky  notes  of  a gaudily 
dressed  ballad  singer. 

There  is  no  formality  at  Harry  Hill’s.  Everybody  is  supposed 
to  feel  at  home.  Therefore,  when  one  of  the  favorite  “ artists  ” 
has  finished  her  part  on  the  program,  she  slips,  in  all  her  made-up 
finery,  gayly  to  the  gallery  over  the  stage  and  does  her  best  to 
make  the  visiting  males  buy  her  employer’s  liquor.  They  gather 
around  the  tables,  and  at  the  expense  of  their  male  acquaintances 
order  drinks.  Now  and  then  they  succeed  in  getting  their  victims 
“ half  seas  over,”  and  then  complete  mastery  is  easy.  They  be- 
come affectionate  in  their  disposition,  and  caress  them  with  the 
deceitful  hand  of  the  prostitute.  ^ 

Far  different  from  the  dives  which  I have  described  is  the  “ Black- 
and-Tan,”  at  No.  153  Bleecker  Street.  No  enormous  globe  holding 
an  electric  light  attracts  people  to  its  entrance.  Vice  is  not  re- 
splendent here.  No  attempt  is  made  to  conceal  it,  or  to  make  it 
appear  less  like  vice.  It  is  carried  on  openly,  flagrantly  and  defi- 
antly. The  wicked  nature  of  the  place  is  betokened  as  one  en- 
ters. Imagine  the  house — an  old-fashioned,  well-built  brick  build- 
ing, once  the  home  of  some  proud  and  wealthy  family,  now  aban- 
doned to  the  very  rot  of  society.  No  one  would  ever  dream,  as  he 
passed  the  frontdoor,  of  the  scenes  that  go  on  nightly  within.  Yet 
he  descends  three  steps  and  finds  himself  at  the  basement  door. 


486 


‘black-and-tan.” 


This  and  the  windows  are  heavily  curtained,  and  only  here  and 
there  where  the  curtain  had  not  been  securely  fastened  gleamed 
forth  rays  of  light.  We  enter  a door  at  the  right  and  find  ourselves 
in  a narrow  hallway,  black  as  the  waters  of  the  East  River  on  a 
foggy  night.  We  feel  our  way  along  the  damp  walls  and  follow 
the  sounds  and  the  faint  glimmer  which  come  from  the  remote  end 


A BOWERY  DIVE. 


of  the  hall.  Here  stands  Frank  Stephenson,  the  alleged  proprietor 
of  the  Black-and-Tan.  He  has  no  such  genial  appearance  as 
Harry  Hill.  He  is  not  particularly  muscular — is  slim  built  and 
has  a bloodless,  brutal  expression.  His  sneaky,  vicious  appear- 
ance is  a good  index  of  the  character  of  the  resort.  The  men  who 
frequent  the  Black-and-Tan  are  the  “ crooks,”  the  thieves,  the 
criminals  of  the  town. 

It  would  not  be  difficult  to  say  where  the  Black-and-Tan  got  its 


THE  CAN-CAN. 


487 


name.  It  is  the  resort  of  black  men  as  well  as  white,  but  the  girls 
are  all  white  ! This  mixture  of  races  is  all  the  more  revolting  ; and 
the  scenes  which  go  on  here  in  this  underground  dive  are  as  bad 
as  imagination  can  picture  them.  The  main  room  is  only  about 
thirty  feet  square  and  is  low  ceiled.  There  are  tables  around  the 
sides  of  the  room,  and  the  space  in  the  centre  is  reserved  for  danc- 
ing. At  one  end  is  the  bar,  kept  by  four  bar-tenders,  behind 
each  of  whom  hangs  a murderous-looking  club  to  which  the  patrons 
of  the  dive  are  not  strangers.  One  will  see  fifteen  or  twenty  women 
in  the  room,  and  as  many  burly,  brutal  negroes.  There  are  only 
traces  of  beauty  in  the  women’s  faces.  Whatever  sign  of  woman- 
hood that  might  have  been  there  once  is  gone  now.  Persons  who 
have  become  too  depraved  for  the  up  town  dives  find  their  way 
here.  There  are  no  bounds  to  license.  It  takes  a good  deal  to 
satisfy  the  best  of  these  dull-sensed  negroes.  They  dance  until 
the  perspiration  rolls  in  streams  down  their  faces,  and  then  they 
drink  until  they  are  stupid.  The  other  male  visitors  besides  ne- 
groes— sailors,  young  clerks,  countrymen — indulge  in  sensuality  al- 
most as  vigorously.  The  air  becomes  close  and  hot,  and  as  impure 
as  the  moral  atmosphere  of  the  place.  Later  in  the  evening,  the 
women  amuse  their  male  friends  by  the  can-can  dance.  There 
is  a contest  among  them  to  see  which  can  kick  the  highest,  and 
they  take  their  skirts  in  their  hands,  and  amid  the  applause  of  the 
spectators  kick  a cigar  from  the  lips  of  one  of  the  men. 

Women  parade  the  Bowery  at  night  and  bring  their  victims,  who 
too  frequently  are  countrymen,  into  the  dimly  lighted  dance-room. 
The  bar-tenders,  women  and  proprietor  are  all  in  one  great  con- 
spiracy to  make  money  by  means  fair  or  foul.  A visitor  orders  a 
bottle  of  wine  and  he  gets  perhaps  the  wrong  ^change  back.  He 
appeals  from  the  bar-tender  to  the  proprietor,  but  the  latter  smiles 
grimly,  assures  him  that  he  must  be  mistaken  and  pockets  the  ill- 
gotten  gains.  Let  the  wronged  man  make  a disturbance,  and  out 
he  goes  into  the  dark  hallway,  probably  bruised  and  battered  by 
the  murderous  clubs  wielded  by  the  bar-tenders. 

I am  told  that,  until  recently,  there  was  an  old  woman  with  a 
pathetic  history  who  used  to  frequent  the  Black-and-Tan.  Her 
name  was  Crazy  Lou,  ana  she  would  come  in  promptly  at  midnight 
and  go  away  at  two  o’clock.  Her  face  was  wrinkled  with  years  of 
vice.  She  wore  an  old  worn  shawl,  and  shivered  in  the  warm  room 
as  if  she  were  cold.  No  one  spoke  to  this  woman  more  than  to 


488 


“CRAZY  LOU.” 

say  : “ Hello,  Crazy  Lou  ! ” and  her  only  answer  was  a smile. 
She  had  began  her  career  in  the  Haymarket,  a beautiful,  attractive 
girl  of  seventeen.  She  had  sat  at  the  tables  in  the  Cremorne  and 
at  Tom  Gould’s.  She  had  danced  at  Harry  Hill’s  and  Billy 
McGlory’s,  and  finally  at  the  Black-and-Tan.  One  jnight  while 
the  winds  were  blowing  chill  she  gathered  her  shawl  about  her  and 
went  out  from  the  dance-hall  into  the  street.  Slowly  she  picked 
her  way  along,  and  then  those  who  were  watching  her  lost  sight  of 
her.  The  next  morning  a corpse  was  found  floating  in  East  River. 
Crazy  Lou  came  to  the  Black-and-Tan  no  more. 

The  worst  feature  of  the  American  Mabille,  as  the  brightly  il- 
luminated building  is  called  which  stands  in  Bleecker  Street,  near 
Broadway,  is  the  temptation  which  it  offers  to  young  girls.  Young 
women  who  have  worked  all  day  in  shops  and  factories  have  a 
natural  longing  for  relaxation  of  some  sort  when  evening  comes. 
So  they  go  out  into  the  brilliantly  lighted  street,  and  thence  easily 
find  their  way  to  such  places  as  the  Mabille.  Once  there,  and  fas- 
cinated by  the  gay  whirl  of  the  waltz  and  the  soft  speeches  of 
masculine  flatterers,  it  is  a great  temptation  to  come  again.  And 
they  return  night  after  night,  the  slow  poison  of  vice  gradually 
working  to  the  very  centre  if  their  moral  consciousness,  absorbing 
every  good  trait  in  their  bodies.  Finally  they  give  up  their  posi- 
tions in  the  shops  and  factories,  and  earn  their  living  in  the  dance- 
hall.  Self-respect  and  virtue  are  speedily  lost,  and  they  sink  to  the 
lowest  depths  of  infamy. 

For  such  downfalls  as  these  Mr.  “ The.”  or  Theodore  Allen,  the 
proprietor  of  the  American  Mabille,  and  one  of  a family  of  crimi- 
nals, is  largely  responsible.  Yet  what  cares  he  for  young  girls’ 
souls  ? His  path  to  wealth  is  strewn  with  them,  and  he  has  grown 
accustomed  to  the  sight  ere  this. 

The  Mabille  differs  in  no  important  particular  from  the  other 
low  resorts  that  have  been  mentioned.  There  are  two  parts  of  it; 
the  main  room,  entered  from  the  street,  where  there  are  tables  and 
a bar,  a few  worn-out  musicians,  and  bar-tenders  with  ominous 
clubs.  Women  frequenters  who  are  not  directly  employed  by  Al- 
len sit  at  the  table  and  persuade  men  to  pay  large  prices  for  poor 
wine  and  worse  beer. 

There  is  a stage  also  in  the  concert  room,  upon  which  a poor 
variety  performance  is  given.  Dissolute  women  in  gaudy  tights 


BILLY  MCGLORY.  489 

dance  and  sing  ribald  songs,  and  rough-looking  men  shout — I 
could  hardly  say  sing — the  latest  vulgar  burlesque. 

In  the  basement  is  the  dance-hall,  and  it  is  here  that  the  young 
girls  of  the  neighborhood  get  their  first  taste  for  vice.  There  is 
a bar  down  here  too,  and  there  are  musicians  who  make  worse 
music  than  their  fellows  up  stairs. 

Billy  McGlory  is,  in  the  neighborhood  of  Hester  Street,  what 
Tom  Lee,  a discharged  deputy-sheriff  and  an  Americanized  China- 
man, is  in  Chinatown — an  uncrowned  king.  He  is  a man  out  of 
whom  forty  devils  might  be  cast  were  it  possible  to  get  at  him. 
He  was  born  in  crime,  and  has  grown  up  in  it.  The  Five  Points, 
thirty-five  years  ago,  was  the  seat  of  the  worst  dens  of  infamy  in 
America.  Surrounded  by  everything  evil,  McGlory  was  born.  He 
got  his  education  in  the  dives,  and  there  he  is  finishing  it.  As  a 
boy  he  was  one  of  the  worst  “ toughs  ” of  Chatham  Square  and  the 
Bowery,  but  was  shrewd  enough  to  keep  out  of  the  clutches  of  the 
police.  He  is  now  about  thirty-five  years  old,  a slim  man,  with 
dark  sunken  eyes  and  thin  lips.  A huge  diamond  sparkles  on  his 
shirt-front. 

The  realm  of  this  king  is  only  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the 
dive  over  which  he  presides.  But  his  name  is  world-wide,  and  his 
infamy  is  as  well  known  as  his  name.  “ Armory  Hall,”  or  “ Billy 
McGlory’s,”  is  at  No.  158  Hester  Street.  It  is  very  much  like  the 
American  Mabille,  only  “ more  so.”  It  is  better  known  and  per- 
haps more  brilliantly  conducted.  This  makes  it  all  the  more  fas- 
cinating to  the  youth  and  pleasure-seeking  classes  of  the  Bowery 
and  vicinity.  The  “ attractions  ” begin  at  about  eleven  o’clock. 
They  consist  of  much  the  same  performances  as  we  have  seen  at 
the  other  dives,  Perhaps  here  the  women  throw  their  legs  a little 
higher,  and  display  a larger  extent  of  nether  garments.  This 
makes  the  spectators  laugh  and  cheer  the  more  loudly,  and  attracts 
greater  numbers  of  the  vicious  classes.  There  are  “crooks”  and 
criminals  of  the  worst  sort  in  attendance  here.  It  makes  a sort  of 
diversion  for  them,  and  gives  them  exceptional  opportunities  for 
plying  their  foul  trade. 

Billy  McGlory’s  supplies  largely  with  inmates  the  houses  of  ill- 
fame  in  this  and  other  cities.  Shop  girls  go  to  Armory  Hall  to 
dance,  and  just  as  surely  as  they  become  habitues  of  the  place 
their  horrible  fate  as  prostitutes  is  settled.  The  can-can  dance  is 
the  favorite  one  here,  and  the  debauchery  and  licentiousness  exhib- 


49° 


RUINED  ! 


ited  is  terrible.  The  wonder  is  that  young  girls  are  not  warned 
by  the  shocking  immoralities  displayed  by  their  elders  : but  they 
seem  to  be  only  fascinated. 

There  was  a sunny-haired  maiden  there  once,  who  looked  and 
was,  I believe,  as  pure  as  the  freshly  fallen  snow.  I saw  her  again 
only  two  years  later,  and  her  plump  cheeks  were  hollow  ; the  lustre 
of  her  eyes  was  gone,  and  a pallor  as  of  death  was  on  her  coun- 


tenance. The  grim  terror,  consumption,  was  standing  over  her 
and  waiting  to  grasp  its  victim.  A woman  with  delicate  phy- 
sique cannot  lie  half  drunk  in  the  damp  streets  many  nights  with- 
out endangering  her  life. 

A haggard  woman  was  once  brought  into  police  headquarters, 
raving  like  a maniac.  She  was  taken  to  Blackwell’s  Island,  but 
before  she  Went  I had  learned  that  she  had  been  found  in  a fit  of 
delirium  tremens  outside  of  Billy  McGlory’s.  She  had  danced  in 


i 


THE  FRENCH  BALL. 


49  1 


Harry  Hill’s  once,  and  had  been  a favorite  at  the  Black-and-Tan 
and  the  American  Mabille.  Later  she  had  appeared  at  Armory 
Hall,  where  she  drank  until  even  brain  was  gone. 

A pretty  girl  who  was  once  thrown  out  of  Billy  McGlory’s,  be- 
cause she  would  not  go  with  a man  who  invited  her,  was  found  by 
police  officers  in  a raid  on  a Mott  Street  opium  joint,  whither  she 
had  gone  to  dream  life  away  in  the  fumes  of  the  Oriental  drug. 
I am  informed  that  the  king  of  the  Hester  Street  dives  has 
made  it  a rule  that  any  female  habitud  of  his  place  who  refuses 
to  go  out  for  immoral  purposes  with  the  man  that  asks  her,  shall 
be  denied  the  “ privileges  ” of  the  hall.  He  gives  orders  to  this 
effect  to  his  door-keepers,  and  n©  king’s  orders  were  ever  more 
faithfully  obeyed  than  Billy  McGlory’s. 

But  arising  from  the  degradation  of  vice  to  the  glitter  it  assumes 
when  surrounded  by  the  splendor  of  the  ball-room,  and  leavened  by 
such  pseudo-respectable  persons  as  wish  to  watch  the  immoral- 
ity of  others  without  indulging  in  it,  perhaps  the  French  ball  is 
the  most  conspicuous  of  all  questionable  assemblies.  This  ball  is 
known  as  that  of  the  Cercle  Fran^aise  de  l’Harmonie. 

Although  this  event  is  termed  French,  it  is  thoroughly  an  Ameri- 
can institution.  Most  of  the  attendants  are  Americans  and  Ger- 
mans. It  is  one  of  the  most  “ populous  ” balls  of  the  city,  and 
perhaps  the  most  disreputable  of  the  reputable  ones — hovering  just 
on  the  border  line. 

It  is  given  under  the  auspices  of  a society  of  Frenchmen,  who 
clear  from  $15,000  to  $25,000  every  year.  A ticket  of  admission 
is  $5,  a hat-check  $2  more,  and  supper  $2  additional  for  each  guest. 
So  popular  has  this  ball  grown  to  be  that  it  is  generally  held  in 
three  of  the  largest  halls  in  the  city  : the  great  Academy  of  Music, 
opening  one  way  through  a short  vestibule  into  Neilson  Hall,  and 
the  other  way  over  a temporary  bridge  above  the  street  into  Irving 
Hall.  So  important  are  the  alimentary  features  of  the  entertain- 
ment deemed,  that  the  two  smaller  halls  are  allotted  wholly  to  the 
gratification  of  the  palate,  Irving  Hall  being  used  for  a supper- 
room  and  Neilson  Hall  as  a wine-room.  The  orchestra  chairs  of 
the  Academy  are  covered  by  a flooring  to  be  used  as  a dancing 
floor,  and  at  the  back  of  the  stage  is  an  enormous  circle  of  gas  jets, 
forming  the  luminous  legends  of  the  society.  Two  bands,  number- 
ing 175  instruments,  play  alternately  dancing  and  promenade 
music  from  the  galleries.  The  Stars  and  Stripes,  trimmed  with  the 


492  A CENTRE  OF  ATTRACTION. 

tri-color  along  the  foot-lights,  and  shields  and  crests  crossed  with 
spears  hang  on  the  columns.  The  boxes  are  handsomely  trimmed 
with  patriotic  devices,  and  deep  festoons  of  blue  and  crimson 
velvet,  interspersed  with  banners,  decorate  the  galleries,  the  chan- 
deliers, and  the  lobbies,  as  well  as  the  bridge  spanning  Irving 
Place  to  the  second  floor  of  Irving  Hall.  This  bridge  is  lighted 
by  electricity. 

The  ball  begins  late.  At  ten  o’clock  there  are  not  fifty  persons 
on  the  floor,  and  but  few  in  the  seats  ; but  almost  all  are  masked, 
and  the  ladies’  dressing-room  is  already  a crush. 

“ It’ll  be  lively  by  midnight,  though,”  somebody  said,  and  some- 
body was  exactly  right  about  it. 

If  it  was  lively  at  twelve,  what  adjective  will  describe  it  at  two  ? 

The  French  ball  is  an  assemblage  of  the  higher  class  demi- 
monde and  the  club  men  of  New  York  City,  a congress  of  the 
more  particular  of  disreputable  women  and  of  business  and  pro- 
fessional men.  It  is  taken  for  granted  that  most  of  the  jeunesse 
doree  will  go — sometimes,  if  not  always — and  that  respectable 
women  will  not  go.  Yet  respectable  women  do  attend  the  ball. 
There  are  usually  more  than  a hundred  on  the  floor  and  in  the 
dress  circle,  deeply  and  thoroughly  masked  beyond  recognition,  ex- 
cept to  those  wno  know  their  forms  and  methods  of  walking. 
Husbands  and  wives  often  go — generally  with  somebody’s  else 
wives  and  husbands. 

At  one  of  these  balls  held  recently  the  centre  of  attraction 
seemed  to  be  a Miss  Western,  a woman  of  much  notoriety, 
formerly  an  intimate  friend  of  the  notorious  Josephine  Mansfield, 
and  one  of  “Jim”  Fiske’s  “Twelve  Temptations.”  She  occu- 
pied the  best  proscenium  box  in  the  Academy — the  box  owned  by 
the  Astor  family.  She  was  unmasked,  and  evidently  proud  of 
her  position  as  the  acknowledged  queen  of  the  ball.  Scores  of 
club-men  stood  grouped  together  on  the  floor  below  the  box  all 
night,  staring  up  into  her  face,  and  indulging  in  free  comments  on 
her  appearance.  She  was  very  -tall,  but  well  proportioned ; her 
complexian,  a rich,  deep  olive ; black  eyes  and  dark  hair  lending 
considerable  beauty  to  a round,  full  face.  She  was  costumed  in  a 
Worth  dress  of  black  satin,  square  corsage,  with  black  gloves 
reaching  far  above  the  elbow.  There  was  no  color  in  her  ornamen- 
tation ; her  jewellery  was  of  gold  and  diamonds.  In  her  ears 
flashed  two  superb  solitaires  ; about  her  arms  wound  two  great 


493 


FRENCH  BALL. 


494 


A PICTURESQUE  JAM. 


snakes  of  woven  gold,  almost  from  her  shoulders  to  her  wrists, 
where  four  eyes  of  the  largest  diamonds  gleamed  from  wicked- 
looking  heads. 

Some  hundred  or  two  of  the  “ solid  men  ” of  the  future  New 
York  called  on  her  in  the  box  during  the  evening,  and  made  her 
acquaintance.  Indeed,  she  held  a regular  court,  and  was  the  cy- 
nosure of  all  eyes.  It  seemed  very  odd  that  the  gleaming  and 
glittering  creature  should  be  sitting  there,  enthroned  and  com- 
placent, in  the  chair  which  Mrs.  Astor  usually  occupies,  so  de- 
murely listening  to  the  opera.  Bouquet  after  bouquet  was 
brought  to  her,  and  she  threw  a fleeting  glance  of  coquettish  rec- 
ognition upon  each  giver,  and  piled  them  upon  the  balcony  and 
chairs  around  her  till  she  was  fairly  embowered.  She  was  said  to 
have  on  $ 10,000  worth  of  jewels.  She  reminded  one  of  the 
“ Dame  wdth  the  Camellias.” 

The  other  boxes  in  the  vicinity  were  similarly  occupied  by  the 
most  disreputable  women  in  the  city — a stout  and  sober-looking 
matron  occupying  the  front  of  each  box,  with  a bevy  of  gaudily  or 
fancifully  dressed  girls  grouped  behind  her. 

At  ten  o’clock  there  are  7000  persons  present — 500  couple 
madly  struggling  for  a chance  to  waltz  at  once.  Perhaps  one- 
third  of  the  people  are  in  fancy  dress,  at  least  1000  being  in  char- 
acter; and  perhaps  half  of  the  ladies  and  a quarter  of  the  gentle- 
men wear  masks.  There  is  a terrible  crowd.  The  heat  is  like  the 
fiery  furnace.  Actors  and  actresses  come  in  from  the  theatres. 
A good  many  well-known  politicians  were  on  hand.  A distin- 
guished Western  journalist  had  a box,  but  he  was  soon  enticed 
to  tlte  floor. 

The  dancing  floor  is  now  a picturesque  jam.  A Neapolitan  fish- 
erman dances  with  the  “ Mascotte  a Prince  of  the  Caucasus 
whirls  “ Little  Red  Riding  Hood  ; ” one  of  the  half  dozen  Oscar 
Wildes  present  dances  the  can-can  ; and  turning  about  the  floor  are 
a gaudy  butterfly ; a nymph  in  pale  green  silk,  embroidered  with 
pearls,  is  arm-in-arm  with  a water  lily;  a Moorish  chief  charges 
upon  a dozen  ^Esthetes,  and  then  comes  an  assorted  lot  of  Napo- 
leons, Cleopatras,  Joan  of  Arcs,  gypsies,  nuns,  brigands,  vivan- 
dieres,  sultanas,  Magyars,  Bedouins,  “ Olivettes,”  Indians,  fairies 
and  demons  ; women  in  black  tights,  women  in  red  tights,  wom- 
en in  blue  tights ; men  and  women  in  every  picturesque  garb  im- 
aginable. There  is  by  this  time  a good  deal  of  reckless  behavior. 


A “ MOUNTAIN  OF  LOVELINESS.” 


495 


Wine  is  having  its  effect.  A Charles  II.  cavalier  comes  rushing 
down  from  the  lobby,  and  seizing  a handsome  woman  kisses  her 
frantically.  Her  escort  interferes,  and  there  is  a fight.  Somebody 
strikes  somebody  else  who  cannot  be  seen,  for  the  policemen  step 
upon  the  scene  and  vanish  with  their  victim. 

Policemen  have  been  noticed  quietly  stealing  in, — coming  one 
by  one — so  softly  that  their  entrance  was  not  noticed  by  the 
dancers  generally,  and  taking  position  around  the  outside  of  the 
auditorium,  at  the  entrances  to  the  vestibule.  Every  species  of 
amusement  that  belongs  to  masked  balls  is  in  full  swing.  Some 
of  the  club  men  are  riotous.  Others  are  languid  and  look  bored  ; 
but  these  are  the  dissolute  and  blase \ who  have  drank  all  sorts  of 
beakers  to  the  dregs  and  always  look  bored.  Men  yawn  and  pay 
little  attention  to  the  creatures,  padded  and  painted  and  powdered, 
with  hard-finish  faces  and  harsh,  rasping  voices,  that  go  flitting 
past. 

We  walk  down  the  foyer,  just  on  the  borders  of  the  dance  floor, 
when  a woman  approaches  us,  attired  in  a brocaded  pink  silk 
dress,  shirred  down  the  front  with  pink  satin,  ornaments,  laces 
and  diamonds,  and  tries  to  kick  our  hats  off.  We  quit  the  terrible 
person,  and  retreat  to  the  stairs,  where  a gentleman,  well  known 
in  New  York  parlors,  is  tugging  away  at  something.  It  is  a 
woman,  apparently ; a very  heavy  weight.  He  has  clasped  her 
wrists  over  his  shoulders,  and  is  trying  to  carry  her  up  stairs  on  his 
back. 

“ O,  Harry  ! Drop  that  mountain  of  loveliness  ! ” shouted  an  ac- 
quaintance to  him,  and  the  “ mountain  ” rolls  off  in  a rage,  and 
rushes  for  the  speaker,  who  flees. 

We  walk  down  to  the  floor  again.  Pandemonium  has  broken 
loose.  In  the  clatter  of  voices,  quiet  conversation  is  no  longer 
possible.  A friend  speaks  in  our  ears. 

“ Do  you  want  to  see  hell  ? ” 

“ Yes  ! Where  ? ” we  cry  eagerly.  “ Where  is  it  ? ” 

He  takes  us  by  the  arms  and  leads  us  fifty  steps  to  the  entrance 
to  Neilson  Hall.  We  stand  at  the  top  of  the  four  steps  between 
the  halls  and  look  down  upon  the  scene.  This,  it  will  be  re- 
membered, is  the  wine-room.  Sure  enough,  it  is  an  inferno.  It 
is  so  full  of  smoke  that  you  can  scarcely  see  a form,  except  those 
near,  though  there  are  fully  one  thousand  persons  there.  As  for 
the  noise,  it  seems  not  so  much  like  a Babel  of  voices,  as  like  an 


496 


A CRAZY  REVEL. 


incessant  roll.  The  sound  is  pitched  high  and  the  tone  slightly 
rises  and  falls,  but  the  screech  is  unbroken  ; it  sounds  like  the  cry 
of  agony  of  a hundred  persons  being  burned  alive  in  a wrecked 
railroad  train.  Here  and  there  a loud  laugh  pierces  the  din. 

Now  I see  that  most  of  the  drinkers  are  sitting  at  tables.  Every 
chair  in  the  great  hall  is  occupied,  and  persons  stand  behind  in  re- 
lays, waiting  for  a chance.  One  third  of  them  are  women.  Some 
are  sitting  on  the  tables.  Some  lying  on  the  window-sills.  Each 
one  of  them  seems  to  be  screaming  to  the  other.  There  is  found 
that  wild  abandon— that  freedom  of  speech,  gesture,  and  attitude 
— belonging  exclusively  to  the  French  Masquerade  ball.  Every 
body  speaks  to  everybody  without  reserve,  and  the  person  spoken 
to  puts  his  hand  to  his  ear  and  scoops  in  the  utterance  like  a sailor 
in  a hurricane. 

When  we  first  entered  the  building  the  halls  were  all  of  them 
gloomy,  cold,  quiet,  almost  unoccupied  ; now  there  is  found  a 
bacchanalian  orgie— a hot  and  crazy  revel,  and  whirl  of  passion. 

At  three  o’clock  some  of  the  tireless  foot  flingers  are  still  on  the 
floor,  but  the  fire  of  revelry  is  burning  low. 

Note. — I wrote  the  preceding  chapter  in  the  summer  of  1886. 
Since  that  time  Abram  S.  Hewitt  has  been  elected  and  is  now 
(1887)  mayor  of  New  York.  Thanks  to  his  untiring  efforts  and 
inflexible  determination  every  so-called  “ dive  ” described  by  me 
has  been  closed  and  the  city  is  to-day  freed  of  those  cradles  of 
crime  and  debauchery.  There  is  no  reason  why  they  should  ever 
be  re-opened.  — G.  W.  W. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 


BUTCHER-CART  THIEVES. — STARVING  CHILDREN  IN  “ THE  SHEP- 
HERD’S fold.” — Garfield’s  murderer  at  police  head- 
quarters.— THE  WOMAN  WHO  THOUGHT  SHE  WAS  SHADOWED. 
— THE  NOTORIOUS  FLORENTINE  FORGERS. — A VISIT  TO  EU- 
ROPE.— HOW  THE  EXCISE  LAWS  ARE  EVADED. 

A certain  class  of  thieves  who  flourished  back  in  the  fifties  had 
a bold  and  novel  way  of  pursuing  their  vocations.  Numbers  of 
young  men,  who  either  owned  or  hired  horses  and  wagons,  would 
ride  up  suddenly  to  butcher  shops  in  the  upper  part  of  the  city, 
and  seizing  a carcass  would  throw  it  into  the  wagon,  and  make 
off  at  full  speed.  Such  marauding  expeditions  led  the  thieves 
into  trouble,  of  course,  unless  the  carcass-snatchers  possessed 
well-built  vehicles,  with  faultless  running  gear,  and  trusty  horses 
of  more  than  average  speed.  These  robberies  opened  up  to  thieves 
a new  field  for  men  of  nerve,  so  that,  a few  years  later,  watches 
and  other  valuables  were  snatched  from  citizens  by  men  who  es- 
caped in  wagons,  and  in  the  order  of  evolution  persons  were 
waylaid  in  the  streets  by  these  bold  depredators,  and  deprived 
of  packages  of  money  and  bonds.  It  came  to  be  so,  after  awhile, 
that  44  hog  ” and  44  butcher-cart  ” thieves,  as  they  were  called,  were 
all  considered  A.  i.  in  the  44  profession.” 

The  first  important  robbery  of  this  kind  which  I remember 
occurred  on  the  morning  of  January  19,  1866.  Samuel  Terry, 
sixteen  years  old,  a messenger  of  the  Farmers’  and  Citizens’ 
National  Bank,  of  Williamsburg,  was  despatched  to  the  Park 
National  Bank,  of  New  York,  with  a satchel  in  which  were  $7,000 
in  money  and  $7,000  in  checks.  He  crossed  the  Roosevelt  Street 
ferry,  and  was  in  Beekman  Street,  near  Park  Row,  when 
two  men,  who  wore  soldiers’  blue  smocks,  sprang  from  a 
butcher’s  cart  and  approached  him.  One  struck  the  boy 
a blow  which  made  him  dizzy,  and  the  other  seized  the  satchel. 
Both  then  jumped  into  the  cart  again,  whipped  up  the  horses 
and  escaped  easily. 


32 


497 


THIEVES ! ” 


498 

Upon  May  12th,  of  the  same  year,  J.  H.  Higgins,  cashier  for 
E.  S.  Higgins  and  Company,  carpet-makers,  at  No.  358  Broad- 
way, went  to  the  bank  to  draw  the  wages  for  the  hands,  as  it 
was  Saturday.  He  put  $16,400  in  a bag,  and  started  for  the 
factory,  which  was  situated  at  the  foot  of  West  Forty-third  Street. 
He  left  an  Eighth  Avenue  car  at  Forty-Third  Street,  and  was 
half  way  down  the  block  when  he  passed  a man  who  scanned 
him  closely.  An  instant  later  the  man  crept  up  behind  him  and 
dealt  him  a stunning  blow  on  the  back  of  the  head,  while  a con- 
federate, springing  from  a butcher’s  cart  near  by,  gave  the  cashier 
another  blow,  seized  the  bag,  and  threw  it  to  a third  man  in  the 
cart.  The  two  assailants  then  leaped  into  the  wagon  and  escaped. 
They  were  chased  as  far  as  Third  Avenue  and  Forty-Second  Street, 
but  here  trace  of  them  was  lost. 

On  December  13,  1867,  Lewis  J.  Kinsley,  seventeen  years  old, 
junior  clerk  of  the  Bank  of  the  City  of  New  York,  had  just  left  the 
Clearing  House  and  was  at  the  corner  of  Wall  and  William  Streets, 
carrying  a satchel  which  contained  $500  in  money  and  $3,600,000' 
in  checks,  when  he  noticed  a Portland  sleigh,  in  the  shafts  of 
which  was  a bob-tailed  horse,  .standing  near  the  curb.  As  he 
passed  it  he  was  felled  to  the  ground,  and  in  the  twinkling  of  an 
eye  the  satchel  was  thrown  into  the  sleigh  and  caught  by  a man 
sitting  in  it.  Another  man  jumped  in,  and  the  horse  was  urged 
on.  Meanwhile  young  Kinsley  had  partially  recovered  from  the 
shock  of  the  blow,  and  had  caught  on  to  the.  hind  part  of  the 
sleigh.  He  hung  on  bravely  for  about  a block,  lustily  yelling 
“ Thieves  ! ” but  a film  came  over  his  eyes,  his  hands  relaxed 
their  hold,  and  he  was  picked  up  in  an  unconscious  condition. 
The  money  was  never  recovered  by  the  bank,  but  the  checks,  it 
was  reported,  were  “negotiated”  back  for  a small  sum. 

So  far  there  had  been  no  arrests  of  any  consequence  for  such 
offences  as  these,  but  on  February  1,  1869,  Edward  Francis,  alias 
“ Steve  ” Boyle,  alias  “ Gus  ” Shaw,  was  arrested  in  front  of  S.  P. 
Squires’ jewellery  store  at  No.  182  Bowery.  He  had  a butcher-cart 
near  by,  and  when  captured  was  no  doubt  meditating  an  attack  on 
Squires.  The  evidence  against  him,  however,  was  insufficient  to 
warrant  an  indictment,  so  he  was  turned  over  to  the  Michigan 
authorities  for  the  murder  of  Sheriff  Orcutt  of  that  state. 

There  was  a lull  in  the  butcher-cart  business  up  to  June  10, 
1878.  On  that  day  Joseph  W.  Laffetra,  conductor’s  receiver  of 


SWEEPERS  ON  THE  STAIRS. 


499 


the  Third  Avenue  Railroad,  started  from  the  Harlem  depot  for 
the  main  office  with  about  $150  on  his  person.  Usually  he  carried 
a much  larger  amount.  He  boarded  a Third  Avenue  car  at  nine 
o’clock.  In  it  were  a number  of  persons  who  had  been  at  a picnic, 
and  some  soldiers  of  the  Eleventh  Regiment.  The  car  was  fol- 
lowed, at  a respectable  distance  at  first,  by  a wagon  in  which  were 
five  men.  At  Ninety-Fourth  Street  these  men  drove  the  wagon 
close  up  to  the  car,  and  jumping  out  attacked  Laffetra,  got  the  bag 
which  contained  the  money  after  a severe  fight,  and  escaped. 
The  soldiers  in  the  car  rendered  Laffetra  no  assistance.  For  this 
offence  J R.  Titterington,  John  Hogan  and  Peter  Culkin,  well 
known  desperadoes,  and  identified  with  former  crimes  of  the  same 
nature,  were  arrested.  There  was  not  sufficient  evidence  against 
them,  and  they  were  discharged. 

The  last  butcher  catt  robbery  of  note  occurred  on  December  31, 
1883.  Mr.  Alfred  Church,  the  aged  superintendent  of  John  Dwight 
and  Company’s  soda-water  factory  in  East  112th  Street,  went  to 
the  Chatham  National  Bank  for  the  purpose  of  drawing  money  to 
pay  wages.  He  had  done  this  often,  and  his  movements  had  been 
closely  watched  by  the  notorious  “ Ed.”  Goodie,  alias  Gearing. 
Mr.  Church  had  to  get  off  the  Second  Avenue  Elevated  road  at 
1 nth  Street.  Goodie,  who  for  years  had  furnished  the  horse  flesh 
for  such  expeditions,  had  his  best  horse  hitched  to  a butcher’s  cart 
near  the  station.  At  that  time  there  was  only  one  way  to  reach  the 
street  from  the  platform,  and  as  Church  began  to  go  down  the 
stairs  he  saw  a villanous  looking  man,  attired  in  a blue  jumper, 
sweeping  the  steps.  The  sweeper  allowed  Mr.  Church  to  pass. 
Near  the  bottom  of  the  stairs  Mr.  Church  encountered  a fair-corn 
plexioned,  clean  shaven  man,  who  was  also  sweeping.  As  he  was 
about  to  pass  him,  the  fellow  threw  aside  his  broom  and  snatched 
the  package  of  money,  amounting  to  $2250,  from  under  Mr. 
Church's  arm;- while  the  first  sweeper  put  the  old  man  hors  du 
combat  by  a blow  from  a piece  of  lead  pipe,  prepared  for  the  oc- 
casion. The  two  thieves  then  rushed  for  the  butcher’s  cart,  into 
which  they  climbed  and  escaped,  despite  the  fact  that  they  were 
chased  as  far  south  as  Seventy- Second  Street.  An  excellent  de- 
scription of  the  thieves  was  given  at  Police  Headquarters,  so  that 
in  less  than  two  months  afterwards  Goodie  was  sentenced  to 
twenty  years’  imprisonment,  Farrell  to  fifteen  years,  and  Tittering- 
ton  to  ten  years. 


500  “all  right.” 

One  of  the  best  executed  “ jobs  ” of  this  class  was  what  is 
known  as  the  “ Messerschmidt  affair.”  It  occurred  on  the  15th 
July,  1881.  Mr.  Charles  Messerschmidt  was  a trusted  employee 
of  Jacob  Ruppert,  the  brewer,  and  had  been  for  years  employed 
to  take  the  vast  collections  of  his  employer  to  the  Germania 
Bank.  On  the  day  in  question,  accompanied  by  Gustave 
Aengele,  a boy,  he  started  from  the  brewery  at  Ninety-First  Street 
and  Third  Avenue  in  a buggy,  with  $9600  in  bills,  made  up  in  a 
package,  on  which  he  sat;  $5000  in  checks,  and  $1000  in  silver. 
He  drove  down  town  by  way  of  Lexington  Avenue,  and  re- 
marked nothing  until  between  Forty-Seventh  and  Forty- Eighth 
streets,  when  what  appeared  to  be  a licensed  vender’s  wagon  was 
driven  violently  against  the  buggy  horse,  so  as  to  force  it  on 
to  the  curb.  At  the  same  instant  a man  sprung  out  of  the  wagon 
into  the  buggy  and  throttled  Mr.  Messerschmidt  with  one  hand 
while  with  the  other  he  held  a revolver  to  his  head.  A second 
man  then  jumped  out  of  the  wagon,  ran  round  to  the  side  of  the 
buggy  and  took  the  package  of  bills  from  under  Mr.  Messer- 
schmidt. Still  a third  man  cut  the  harness  of  the  buggy  horse,  so 
as  to  render  pursuit  impossible.  There  was  a signal  given — “ All 
right,” — the  three  men  got  into  the  wagon,  in  which  there  were 
two  others*  and  they  then  started  down  town  at  a 3.20  gait. 

Some  citizens,  a policeman  and  a fireman  took  up  the  chase  at 

intervals,  and  the  thieves  showed  of  what  metal  they  were 
made  by  firing  several  shots  at  their  pursuers,  one  of  the  bullets 
passing  through  the  window  of  a store.  Several  arrests  were 
made,  but  no  one  was  even  brought  to  trial. 

Horrifying  disclosures  regarding  the  treatment  of  the  children 
in  the  “ Shepherd’s  Fold  ” created  much  public  indignation  during 
the  year  1880.  This  institution  was  situated  at  No.  157  East 

Sixtieth  Street  in  this  city,  and  was  managed  by  the  Rev. 

Edward  Cowley,  whosq  name  will  be  handed  down  to  posterity  as 
one  of  the  most  cold-blooded,  canting  hypocrites  with  which 
this  world  has  ever  been  afflicted.  Under  his  charge  at  the 
“ Fold  ” there  were  between  thirty  and  forty  children,  ranging 
in  age  from  four  to  sixteen  years.  Cowley’s  wife  was  associated 
with  him  in  the  management  of  the  institution.  This  confederate 
in  iniquity,  on  one  day  in  the  latter  part  of  December,  1879, 
appeared  at  St.  Luke’s  Hospital  with  a child  called  Louis  Victor, 
who  was  five  years  old,  and  who,  she  said,  had  been  an  inmate 


“SHEPHERD”  COWLEY.  50I 

of  the  Fold,  and  needed  better  care  and  treatment  than  she  could 
give  him  there. 

Truly  the  little  waif  did  need  better  care.  According  to  Dr. 
Riolon,  the  physician  in  charge  of  the  hospital,  the  child  was 
in  a state  of  emaciation  almost  beyond  relief  ; he  was  simply 
skin  and  bones,  and  had  nothing  on  his  body  which  looked  like 
fat  or  muscular  development.  He  was  very  stupid.  In  the 
presence  of  Mrs.  Cowley  he  made  no  cry  or  complaint ; but  after 
he  was  taken  to  the  ward,  he  cried  continually  for  food,  espe- 
cially meat.  His  pinched  face  had  a dark,  bloodless  color.  Be- 
yond all  question  his  condition  was  due,  simply  and  wholly,  to 
improper  and  insufficient  food — in  plain  English,  he  was  suffering 
from  starvation  ! 

The  condition  of  the  little  starveling  was  critical,  and  on  the 
sixth  of  January,  1880,  the  officers  of  St.  Luke’s  Hospital  notified 
the  Society  for  the  Prevention  of  Cruelty  to  Children.  The 
president  of  the  society,  Mr.  Elbridge  T.  Gerry,  at  once  called 
at  the  hospital,  and  a photograph  of  poor  little  Louis  was  taken, 
showing  his  physical  condition.  The  facts  of  the  case  were  laid 
before  the  Supreme  Court  by  the  society,  and  a warrant  was  issued 
by  Justice  Donohue  for  the  production  of  all  the  inmates  of  the 
Shepherd’s  Fold.  The  result  of  this  was  that  the  following  chil- 
dren were  brought  before  him  : Fannie  McCurdy,  16  years,  Bessie 
Lawrence,  15,  Minnie  St.  James,  15,  Lillie  Hawes,  14,  Emma 
Bowman,  15,  Lizzie  Hunter,  13,  Mary  Shaw,  8,  Rockwell  Macan, 
9,  Philip  Macan,  5,  Lilian  Anderson,  8,  Edith  Anderson,  4,  George 
Predeau,  5,  Mary  Metzler,  n,  Gussie  Sweeney,  12,  Charles 
Sweeney,  9,  Frederick  Sweeney,  7,  Maggie  Sweeney,  3,  Lawrence 
Martin,  7,  Robert  Wood,  3,  Alfredo  Lauzi,  9,  Estelle  Staudenback, 
13,  John  Staudenback,  10,  Thomas  Banks,  10,  and  John  Banks, 
7 years, — Louis  Victor,  5 years,  being  in  St.  Luke’s  Hospital,  was 
not  produced.  James  Fox,  14,  and  John  Campbell,  16  years,  were 
surrendered  later. 

The  grand  jury  found  no  less  than  twenty  five  indictments 
against  the  Rev.  Edward  Cowley,  and  on  one  of  them,  in  which 
he  was  charged  with  cruelly  ill-using  and  neglecting  little  Victor, 
he  was  tried  during  the  month  of  February,  1880. 

The  evidence  adduced  at  the  trial  showed  that  the  Shepherd’s 
Fold  was  incorporated  under  the  laws  of  the  State  of  New  York 
for  the  purpose  of  “ receiving  and  adopting  children  and  youths 


502  “nourishing  food.” 

of  both  sexes,  between  the  age  of  twelve  months  and  fifteen  years, 
who  are  orphans,  half-orphans,  or  otherwise  friendless  ; these  to 
keep,  support,  and  educate,  apprentice  and  place  out  to  service, 
trades  and  schools.”  It  was  under  these  promises  that  Louis  Vic- 
tor was  received  into  the  “Fold”  on  the  23d  of  January,  1878. 
He  was  then  in  a perfect  state  of  health — plump,  lively,  healthy 
and  stout.  The  testimony  went  to  show  that  almost  the  only  food 
served  to  the  children  was  oatmeal  mush,  milk  and  water,  which 
was  served  to  them  on  soap  boxes  in  a damp,  dingy  basement. 
A physician  was  called  in  to  see  Louis  Victor  once,  and  fresh  air 
and  exercise,  together  with  nourishing  food,  were  prescribed. 
But  all  the  exercise  and  fresh  air  he  and  his  fellow  inmates  got 
were  obtained  in  a little  back  yard,  into  which  the  sun  never  en- 
tered. Meat,  the  children  never  saw,  and  the  squalor,  discomfort 
and  misery  of  the  place  must  have  chilled  and  darkened  the  en- 
tire block  in  which  the  “ Fold  ” was  situated.  “ Nourishing  food  ” 
meant  three  raw  tomatoes  a day  ! 

Poor  little  Louis  gradually  wasted  away  before  the  eyes  of  the 
Cowleys,  until  he  was  on  the  very  verge  of  the  grave,  and  then 
they  took  him  to  the  hospital. 

Shepherd  Cowley  made  a strong  fight  in  the  courts,  but  it  was  of 
no  avail.  The  evidence  of  his  neglect  and  cruelty  was  overwhelm- 
ing, and  he  was  found  guilty,  as  might  have  been  expected.  Re- 
corder Smythe,  before  whom  the  case  was  tried,  sentenced  him  to 
one  year’s  imprisonment  in  the  Penitentiary,  and  to  pay  a fine  of 
$250,  or  to  stand  committed  until  the  fine  was  paid.  Cowley  ap- 
pealed, but  the  conviction  was  sustained,  and  he  served  out  his  sen- 
tence. But  prison  fare  such  as  he  got  would  have  seemed  sweet  to 
the  orphans  whom  he  maltreated. 

Every  one  is  conversant  with  the  tragic  circumstances  which  at- 
tended the  assassination  of  President  Garfield  by  Guiteau — how, 
when  the  President,  walking  in  the  Baltimore  and  Potomac  railway 
station  at  Washington,  arm-in-arm  with  James  G.  Blaine,  was 
shot  down  in  cold  blood  by  a political  crank.  When  the  appalling 
news  of  the  assassination  was  made  known  in  New  York,  I was  im- 
mediately struck  with  the  similarity  of  the  name  of  the  assassin — - 
Guiteau — with  that  of  a man  who  had  once  been  brought  before  me. 
A few  days  before  the  trial  of  Guiteau  I happened  to  be  in  Wash- 
ington, and  saw  him  in  his  cell.  Any  doubts  I may  have  had  as  to 
his  being  the  fellow  I had  arrested  in  New  York  were  at  once  dis- 


LOVE-SICK  GUITEAU. 


5°4 

pelled  by  his  appearance,  and  by  his  exclaiming,  as  if  he  recog- 
nized me,  “ How  do  you  do,  sir  ? ” 

The  way  in  which  he  came  under  my  notice  was  as  follows : He 
had  conceived  a passionate  admiration  for  a young  lady,  and  began 
showing  it  by  following  her  about  when  she  went  shopping  and 
when  she  went  to  church.  Then  he  wrote  her  love-letters,  in  a 
high-flown  style,  expressing  his  ardent  affection  and  devotion. 
These  were  followed  by  small  presents  from  time  to  time.  Such 
attentions  became  exceedingly  distasteful  to  the  young  lady,  and 
she  made  the  facts  known  to  her  friends,  who  reported  the  matter 
to  me.  The  letters  were  numerous ; all  had  passed  through  the 
Post-office  and  were  written  on  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel  note  paper. 
The  writer  was  apparently  a man  of  some  education,  as  the  pen- 
manship was  fairly  good,  and  the  language,  though  lofty  and  gran- 
diloquent, appropriate  and  grammatical.  As  an  inducement  to  the 
.young  lady  to  accept  him  as  her  husband,  he  mentioned  that  he 
was  about  to  receive  from  the  Government  an  appointment  abroad 
as  diplomatic  representative  of  the  United  States.  He  drew  a flat- 
tering picture,  showing  the  grace  and  dignity  with  which  the  young 
lady,  as  his  wife,  could  assist  him  in  filling  the  position.  The  law- 
yer who  came  to  me  in  behalf  of  the  young  lady  pointed  out  that 
the  would-be  suitor  was  evidently  under  the  impression  that  the 
subject  of  his  admiration  was  an  heiress ; but  that  in  this  he  was 
mistaken.  The  gifts,  too,  I learned,  were  of  a cheap  and  trashy 
character.  The  letters  were  all  signed  “ Charles  Guiteau.” 

I sent  a very  careful  officer — John  McNamara — to  enquire  into 
the  matter.  He  watched  the  lady’s  residence,  and  also  the  church 
she  was  in  the  habit  of  attending.  In  a day  or  two  Guiteau  ap- 
peared on  the  scene,  and  was  immediately  recognized  by  the  officer 
from  the  description  furnished  him.  The  suitor  was  loitering 
about  outside  the  church,  waiting  for  his  lady  love.  He  did  not 
see  her,  however,  for  McNamara  arrested  him,  and  he  was  brought 
before  me.  It  did  not  strike  me  then  that  there  was  anything  re- 
markable about  his  appearance,  and  he  made  no  particular  impres- 
sion on  me.  He  was  a small  man,  with  dark  complexion,  black 
eyes,  and  was  respectably  dressed.  His  demeanor,  when  in  my 
presence,  did  not  differ  in  the  least  from  those  under  arrest  for 
similar  offences. 

“ So  you’ve  been  writing  letters  to  a lady  ? ” I said. 


“ LOST ! " 


5°5 

He  admitted  as  much,  informing  me,  also,  that  he  had  sent  her 
presents. 

I gave  Guiteau  a severe  lecture,  upon  the  conclusion  of  which  he 
promised  never  to  annoy  the  young  lady  again.  As  he  was  leaving 
the  office,  I said  : 

“ If  this  same  complaint  is  made  against  you  a second  time,  I 
shall  certainly  send  you  to  the  Penitentiary.” 

Instances  of  this  kind  were  not  uncommon  in  my  experience  ; 
and  it  had  almost  passed  out  of  my  mind,  when  one  day  Officer 
McNamara  reported  that  he  had  again  found  Guiteau  in  the  vicin- 
ity of  the  church,  evidently  lying  in  wait  for  the  young  lady.  The 
officer  took  hold  of  him  and  nearly  frightened  him  out  of  his 
boots  by  saying  : 

“ I am  going  to  take  you  before  the  superintendent,  and  you’ll 
have  to  go  to  the  Penitentiary  this  time.” 

Guiteau  was  very  much  alarmed,  and  begged  and  prayed  in  a 
piteous  manner  to  be  let  off.  This  was  done,  and  that  was  the  last 
time  he  came  in  contact  with  the  New  York  police.  It  would  have 
been  difficult  to  prosecute  the  man,  which  is  nearly  always  the  case 
in  accusations  of  this  nature.  The  publication  of  particulars  is 
unpleasant  for  the  persons  who  have  been  annoyed. 

The  number  of  persons  who  are  reported  to  the  police  as  being 
missing  from  their  homes  is  something  incredible.  As  for  lost, 
stolen  or  strayed  children,  their  name  is  legion.  A parent  rushes 
wildly  into  the  station-house,  her  hair  dishevelled,  and  her  eyes 
almost  starting  from  their  sockets,  and  cries  out  that  her  child  has 
been  lost.  It  had  been  last  seen  with  a strange  man  or  woman, 
therefore  it  must  have  been  kidnapped  ! 

As  a general  rule,  however,  the  missing  individual  soon  turns 
up  with  a very  simple  explanation  as  to  the  cause  of  absence. 
Right  here  comes  in  the  greatest  difficulty  with  which  the  police 
have  to  contend.  Instant  information  is  given  when  a person  is 
supposed  to  be  “lost,”  but  very  rarely  is  it  that  the  friends  of  the 
lost  remember  to  inform  the  police  of  the  absent  one’s  return. 

A number  of  precautions  are  taken  by  the  police  for  the  protec- 
tion of  those  who  are  strangers  in  the  city  and  who  happen  to 
meet  with  any  accident.  When  persons  are  found  sick  on  the  side- 
walk, and  are  unable  to  tell  their  names  or  addresses,  but  are 
identified  by  an  address  card  found  on  them,  they  are  at  once  sent 
to  their  homes.  Otherwise,  if  there  is  no  such  clue,  a description 


5°6 


CHARLES  DELMONICO. 


of  the  individual  found  is  telegraphed  to  an  officer  at  headquarters, 
who  has  charge  of  all  such  matters.  In  the  case  of  a child  found 
wandering  about  the  streets,  if  it  can  tell  its  name,  we  telegraph  to 
its  parents,  who  come  to  headquarters  and  recover  their  darling. 
If  no  information  can  be  obtained  from  the  child,  it  is  placed  in 
charge  of  the  matron,  Mrs.  Webb,  until  some  one  claims  the  child, 
or  it  is  sent  to  some  public  institution. 

One  of  the  most  famous  cases  of  disappearance  which  occurred 
during  my  term  as  police  superintendent,  and  one  which  perhaps 
is  freshest  in  my  memory,  was  that  of  Charles  Delmonico,  the  pro- 
prietor of  the  well-known  restaurant,  on  January  5,  1884.  On  that 
day  he  left  his  home  in  West  Fourteenth  Street  and  disappeared 
so  effectually  that  for  a week,  in  spite  of  large  rewards,  the  police 
and  detective  force  were  unable  to  get  track  of  him.  It  came  to 
be  generally  supposed  that  he  had  been  kidnapped,  or,  worse  yet, 
murdered ; but  the  police  knew  that  the  missing  man  had  shown 
signs,  previous  to  his  mysterious  departure,  of  dementia,  the  result 
of  a long  and  severe  illness ; and  they  worked  on  the  theory  that 
he  had  wandered  off  somewhere  and  either  lost  his  way  or  met 
with  an  accident. 

We  finally  learned  that  he  had  been  seen  last  on  a ferry-boat 
leading  to  Jersey  City,  and  accordingly  our  search  was  confined 
largely  to  New  Jersey.  After  days  of  disagreeable  searching,  for 
the  weather  was  wintry  and  cold,  we  came  upon  his  body  in  a little 
ravine  near  Orange.  Evidently  he  had  fallen,  and  injured  himself 
so  severely  that  he  could  not  rise  nor  attract  others  to  his  condition. 
So  he  gradually  starved  and  froze  to  death. 

Women  have  very  often  proved  troublesome  upon  being  arrested, 
especially  when  intoxicated.  Policemen  Maxwell  and  Carney 
came  across  two  of  them  one  evening,  raising  a disturbance  on  the 
Bowery.  Maxwell  collared  one  and  his  companion  the  other. 
Maxwell’s  prisoner  made  no  particular  resistance  until  they  had 
walked  some  distance,  when  she  suddenly  sat  down  on  the  side- 
walk and  commenced  to  disrobe.  Bonnet,  shawl,  boots,  stockings, 
and  other  garments  went  flying  into  the  middle  of  the  street.  As 
fast  as  Maxwell  replaced  one  article  she  divested  herself  of  another. 
At  length,  with  the  assistance  of  bystanders,  the  policeman  got 
enough  clothes  on  her  to  hide  her  nakedness,  and  again  started 
for  the  station-house. 

Before  reaching  there,  however,  down  she  went  on  the  sidewalk 


“whiter  than  snow.”  507 

again,  and  this  time  she  managed  to  pull  her  dress  completely  off. 
The  policeman  was  then  close  to  the  entrance,  and  so,  gathering 
up  his  prisoner’s  clothing  in  one  hand,  took  hold  of  her  with  the 
other,  and  marched  her  in.  To  say  that  the  sergeant  in  charge 
was  astonished  at  seeing  this  half-clothed  woman  is  but  half  ex- 
pressing his  impressions.  It  took  three  men  to  dress  her  again 
and  put  her  in  a cell.  Maxwell  has  since  confessed  to  me  that 
whenever  he  saw  her  on  the  street  afterward  he  always  gave  her  a 
wide  berth. 

On  one  occasion,  while  superintendent,  I was  standing  at  the 
corner  of  Pine  and  Nassau  streets,  talking  to  two  gentlemen,  when 
an  old  woman,  pretty  well  intoxicated  and  carrying  a basket  on 
her  arm,  came  up  and  addressed  me.  Although  I was  attired  in 
citizen’s  dress,  she  evidently  knew  me,  because  when  I told  her 
to  go  away  and  not  make  a noise  she  commenced  to  abuse  the 
police  in  general  and  me  in  particular.  A crowd  quickly  collected, 
and  despite  all  my  urging  the  woman  would  not  go  away.  Among 
those  in  the  crowd  was  a well-known  stock  broker.  With  the  in- 
tention of  disconcerting  me  and  having  some  fun,  this  gentleman 
remarked  in  a loud  voice  : 

“ I thought  it  was  the  duty  of  the  police  to  arrest  intoxicated 
and  disorderly  persons  on  the  streets.” 

Thus  challenged,  as  it  were,  although  I might  easily  have  called 
a patrolman,  J took  hold  of  the  woman  and  started  with  her  to- 
wards the  First  Precinct  station-house  on  New  Street.  The  crowd 
followed.  Among  the  various  contents  of  the  woman’s  basket 
was  a bag  of  flour,  with  which,  having  one  arm  free,  she  vigorously 
pelted  me.  I was  covered  with  the  white  powder  from  head  to 
foot.  The  numerous  brokers  and  others  who  witnessed  the  scene 
were  most  uproarious,  yelling  and  shouting  at  the  top  of  their 
voices,  while  the  smaller  boys  were  no  less  backward  in  their  dem- 
onstrations of  delight  at  my  whitewashed  appearance.  I appeared 
against  the  woijian  the  next  day  at  the  Tombs,  and  she  was  sent 
to  the  Island  for  a term. 

The  habit  of  people  to  fly  to  the  police  upon  the  very  slightest 
provocation  is  astonishing.  All  nervous  and  excitable  persons 
apparently  look  upon  the  force  as  having  been  organized  for  their 
own  personal  benefit.  The  complaints  made,  and  the  grievances 
elaborated  by  these  imaginative  individuals,  are  countless.  The 
most  natural  movements  and  actions  on  the  part  of  perfectly  in-  ' 


S°8 


CRANKS. 


nocent  persons  are  distorted,  by  the  aid  of  vivid  imaginations, 
into  plots  to  commit  crime  or  to  destroy  the  happiness  and  peace 
of  mind  of  those  making  the  complaint.  Very  often,  I confess, 
have  I been  provoked  when  investigating  these  “baseless  fabrics 
of  a vision.”  Yet  I could  not  pass  these  complaints  over  without 
taking  some  notice  of  them,  as  the  very  next  thing  in  order  would 
have  been  a charge  of  negligence  against  the  police. 

Of  intercourse  with  “cranks”  I really  think  I have  had  more 
than  my  fair  share.  It  is  strange  how  these  unfortunate  individ- 
uals always  go  directly  to  the  Superintendent  of  Police,  seem- 
ingly having  little  or  no  confidence  in  any  of  his  subordinates. 
The  most  common  form  of  aberration  of  mind  which  these  half- 
balanced  individuals  possess  is  the  fear  of  being  waylaid  and  at- 
tacked by  enemies  who,  they  think,  are  pursuing  them  day  and 
night. 

I well  remember  one  nice  old  lady  who  came  to  me  in  evident 
fear  and  distress  of  mind.  That  she  was  well-bred  there  could  be 
no  doubt — her  dress  and  demeanor  plainly  showed  that.  She  in- 
formed me,  in  a very  earnest  but  somewhat  rambling  manner,  that 
certain  persons,  with  none  of  whom  she  was  acquainted,  were  con- 
stantly following  her  about,  to  do  her  some  injury.  I saw  at  once 
that  her  mind  was  affected,  but  nevertheless  listened  attentively 
to  all  she  had  to  say,  with  apparently  the  deepest  sympathy. 
She  was  so  evidently  a lady  in  every  sense  of  the  word  that  I 
hadn’t  the  heart  to  send  her  about  her  business,  as  I might  have 
done.  A fortunate  thought  entered  my  head  and  I hastened  to 
act  on  it.  I rang  my  bell  and  instructed  the  officer  who  answered 
the  summons  to  send  me  two  of  the  smartest  detectives  on  the 
force.  They  came,  and  pointing  out  the  lady  to  them  I said  : 

“ You  will  see  that  hereafter  this  lady  is  not  molested  in  any 
way.” 

The  old  lady  then  left  the  room,  thanking  me  over  and  over 
again  for  my  kindness,  and  evidently  was  greatly  pleased  with 
the  result  of  her  interview.  A few  months  afterwards,  however, 
she  again  made  her  appearance  in  my  office.  She  had  come,  she 
said,  to  inform  me  that  she  was  entirely  free  from  her  enemies  in  New 
York;  but  as  she  was  going  to  spend  the  summer  at  Newport  she 
thought  it  would  be  best  if  I gave  her  a letter  to  the  Chief  of  Police 
there.  This,  I told  her,  was  impossible,  but  I would,  however, 
see  to  it  that  the  Newport  chief  was  made  acquainted  with  her 


SOME  OF  THEIR  DELUSIONS. 


509 

case  and  that  the  necessary  protection  would  be  afforded  her. 
Once  more  did  she  almost  overwhelm  me  with  her  professions 
of  gratitude,  and  then  retired. 

Upon  returning  to  New  York,  however,  she  again  proved  trouble- 
some, paying  frequent  visits  to  Police  Headquarters  and  annoy- 
ing me  in  many  ways.  One  day,  therefore,  I informed  her  that 
she  must  call  on  me  no  more.  She  became  very  indignant  and 
exclaimed  in  a very  angry  manner  : 

“ Superintendent,  you  are  a cruel  man  ! and  God  will  not  be 
good  to  you.” 

Another  good  example  of  a crank  who  paid  me  a visit  was  a 
highly  educated  Englishman.  He,  literally  as  well  as  figuratively, 
had  electricity  on  the  brain,  and  believed  he  was  powerfully  charged 
with  the  volatile  fluid.  In  his  imagination  a brick  wall  presented 
no  obstacles,  and  the  never-failing  reservoir  of  supply  was,  he 
thought,  located  somewhere  in  his  head.  He  was  taken  before  a 
magistrate,  to  whom  I explained  the  poor  fellow’s  hallucination, 
and  he  was  sent  to  an  insane  asylum.  He  was  subsequently  re- 
leased and  returned  to  England,  whence  he  wrote  me.  His  letter 
was  a bright  and  clever  composition,  very  sensible  except  for  the 
final  sentence,  which  ran  thus : “ I am  still  suffering  from  the 
electric  fluid  ; and  I will  never  come  near  you  again  because  you 
were  cruel  enough  to  send  me  to  an  asylum.” 

Once,  when  I was  captain  of  the  Eighteenth  Precinct,  a German 
actually  came  and  wanted  the  aid  of  the  police  simply  because  his 
horse  wouldn’t  stand  still  and  he  couldn’t  harness  him.  At 
another  time  a woman  told  me  a long  story  about  a mackerel, 
which  another  woman  had  promised  to  watch  for  her  while  it  was 
being  cooked.  This  woman  had  neglected  her  trust,  the  mackerel 
was  burned  and  the  complainant  wanted  the  woman  arrested,  and 
made  to  pay  for  the  cremated  fish. 

I have  even  known  business  men  to  make  the  most  reckless 
charges,  without  considering  the  legal  aspect  of  the  case.  I have 
been  asked  to  order  the  arrest  of  drummers  travelling  in  another 
state,  who  had  sold  their  samples,  the  applicant  forgetting  that 
such  a crime,  committed  in  one  state,  is  not  punishable  in  an- 
other. Men  frequently  want  their  wives  arrested  for  stealing  prop- 
erty from  them,  and  also  on  the  charge  of  adultery.  This  is  no 
offence,  in  law,  in  New  York  state,  as  I found  out  to  my  cost  on 
one  occasion.  I received  a despatch  from  the  Montreal  chief  of 


510  CONFESSIONS  OF  A FORGER. 

police  requesting  me  to  arrest  a married  woman  who  had  eloped 
from  Canada  with  a man  not  her  husband,  and  who  was  on  her 
way  to  this  city.  When  the  two  arrived  here  I had  them  arrested 
and  taken  to  Jefferson  Market  Police  Court.  The  woman  em- 
ployed Messrs.  Howe  and  Hummed  as  her  counsel  and  was  im- 
mediately discharged,  as  there  was  no  statute  under  which  she 
could  be  held  for  adultery.  Afterwards,  a resolution  was  intro- 
duced in  the  assembly  by  Hamilton  Fish,  Jr.,  asking  that  an  en- 
quiry be  held  into  my  action,  but  nothing  ever  came  of  it.  I was, 
however,  more  careful  in  the  future. 

The  methods  of  that  dangerous  class  of  criminals  known  as  forg- 
ers, and  the  passers  of  spurious  money  and  securities,  were  never- 
more thoroughly  exposed  than  in  a confession  made  to  Col.  J. 
Schuyler  Crosby,  at  Florence,  Italy,  in  the  early  spring  of  1885 
It  occurred  after  the  arrest  of  those  famous  forgers  and  counterfeit- 
ers ; Willis,  Burnes,  Hamilton  and  Wilkes,  in  connection  with 
what  is  known  as  the  Florentine  forgeries.  “ Pete  ” Burnes,  other- 
wise known  as  James  J.  Julian  and  Henry  Wood  ; and  George  W. 
Wilkes,  alias  Willis,  were  arrested  in  Florence,  Italy,  on  Christmas 
Day,  1880.  Almost  at  the  sa.me  moment,  “ Shell  ” Hamilton,  alias 
Colburt,  their  confederate,  was  captured  in  Milan.  They  had  been 
engaged  in  freebooting  expeditions  against  bankers  and  hotel  keep- 
ers all  over  Europe,  using  forged  bonds,  counterfeit  money  and 
spurious  letters  of  credit. 

After  a long  trial,  they  were  all  convicted.  Burnes  died  in  pris- 
on, leaving  a fortune  of  nearly  half  a million  dollars,  for  which 
three  women,  who  pretended  to  be  his  “ wives,”  had  a long  legal 
squabble.  But  Wilkes,  in  some  way  or  other,  managed  to  get  re- 
leased after  a short  term  of  imprisonment.  It  is  believed  that  his 
release  is  due  to  his  confession  to  Consul  Crosby,  which  threw 
great  light  on  the  operations  of  these  and  other  celebrated  forgers 
in  Europe  and  America. 

Wilkes  was  undoubtedly  the  equal  of  any  man  who  ever  forged, 
counterfeited  or  dealt  in  “ doubtful  ” securities.  Such  men  as 
“Andy”  Roberts,  George  Engels,  Charley  Becker  and  a host  of 
others,  who  have  been  considered  “ specialists,”  acknowledged  his 
superiority  by  seeking  his  services  from  time  to  time.  It  was  he 
who  engineered  the  infamous  $64,000  check  forgery  on  the  Union 
Trust  Co.;  and  he  had  a share  in  at  least  75  per  cent,  of  all  such 


WHOLESALE  “ CHECK-RAISING.”  5 I I 

operations  in  this  country  and  Europe  in  which  Americans,  or 
villains  sailing  from  America,  were  connected. 

The  confession  of  Wilkes  is  now  among  the  archives  at  Police 
Headquarters.  In  it  he  tells  the  story  of  his  life.  He  was  a na- 
tive of  Orange  Co.,  N.  Y.,  and  was  born  in  1837.  After  clerking  a 
while  for  the  Erie  Railroad  Co.,  he  was  graduated  as  a professional 
gambler,  and  once  kept  a “ hell  ” at  the  corner  of  Broadway  and 
Fourth  Street,  with  John  Tollman  and  Charley  Schaffer.  His 
gambling  career  lasted  a couple  of  years,  and  during  this  period  he 
associated  with  the  better  class  of  criminals.  His  first  venture  in 
forging  was  with  a third-rate  man  named  Sudless.  They  forged  a 
check  of  the  Board  of  Education,  as  well  as  some  small  drafts. 
They  were  arrested,  but  discharged.  Then  Wilkes  indulged  in  a 
fraud  on  the  Custom  House,  known  as  the  “Brandy  Ring,”  which 
netted  him  $40,000.  He  was  next  interested  in  the  forgery  of  a 
fifty-dollar  greenback  on  the  Tradesman’s  National  Bank  of  New 
York.  His  succeeding  venture  was  with  Joseph  Chapman  (now  in 
prison  in  Europe)  and  William  Denneran  in  a “ starring  ” forgery 
trip.  After  several  failures,  at  Cheyenne,  Chapman  passed  a draft 
for  $3000.  The  gang  then  went  to  San  Francisco,  where  they 
had  poor  luck,  only  succeeding  in  cashing  a draft  for  $2300. 
About  this  time  they  went  into  partnership  with  N.  V.  Clinton,  a 
“ Hoosier,”  and  organized  a scheme  of  plunder  against  South 
American  merchants.  Clinton,  however,  broke  loose,  cheated  his 
partners  and  came  to  grief,  much  to  the  delight  of  his  former  com- 
panions, for  stealing  a letter  of  credit  from  a fellow-passenger  while 
on  the  journey  from  Panama.  Wilkes  also  left  the  gang  to  come 
to  New  York,  and  made  arrangements  to  meet  Chapman,  who  at 
San  Francisco  had  obtained  a small  draft  on  the  Bank  of  British 
North  America.  Wilkes  “ doctored  ” the  draft  until  it  called  for 
$5000,  and  Chapman  negotiated  it  by  means  of  false  letters  of  in- 
troduction. 

The  two  then  went  to  Boston,  and  when  prepared  for  another 
starring  tour  took  in  George  Barlow.  They  raised  funds  to  meet 
travelling  and  hotel  expenses  by  altering  a check  for  a paltry 
amount  to  $1600.  Their  next  exploit  was  the  raising  of  a small 
draft,  obtained  in  Chicago,  to  $5000,  which  was  cashed  in  Louis- 
ville, Kentucky.  All  this,  however,  was  poor  business.  Besides, 
several  detectives  were  on  the  track  of  the  forgers,  and  Clinton, 
who  was  in  jail  at  Panama,  had  to  be  supplied  with  money  to 


512 


THE  “ SNAP  ” GIVEN  AWAY. 


bribe  his  keepers.  There  was  some  clever  work  done  in  raising 
checks  from  small  amounts  to  thousands  of  dollars,  and  this  kept 
the  gang  from  starving  until  the  winter  of  1876,  when  they  were  in 
possession  of  funds  to  the  amount  of  $ 8,000  or  $10,000.  At  that 
time  the  gang  was  increased  by  the  addition  of  “ Eph  ” Holland, 
Patrick  Riley  and  James  Hogan.  They  had  money  enough  to  be 
idle  for  a time,  and  at  Chicago  perfected  their  knowledge  of  bank- 
ing methods.  In  this  they  were  greatly  aided  by  “ Phil  ” Har- 
graves, who  was  nearly  as  expert  as  Wilkes. 

Early  in  1877  they  made  a descent  on  Louisiana,  raking  in  from 
$20,000  to  $30,000.  They  lived  recklessly,  however ; and  when 
they  meditated  operations  between  St.  Louis  and  San  Francisco,  and 
it  was  necessary  to  raise  as  much  money  as  possible,  they  were  un- 
able to  count  on  much  more  than  $10,000.  They,  however,  rang 
the  changes  between  the  two  cities  named  so  cleverly  that  they 
netted  about  $30,000.  By  this  time  Wilkes  had  formed  other  con- 
nections, and  had  accumulated  enough  money  to  enter  into  bigger 
business.  Forged  bonds  of  the  Central  Pacific  Railroad  had 
been  made  by  Charley  Becker,  and  $10,000  worth  of  them  were 
disposed  of  by  Wilkes  and  the  others  in  Chicago.  Then,  in  com- 
pany with  “ Josie”  Spencer  and  $34,000  of  the  bonds,  Wilkes  start- 
ed for  Europe.  Hardly  had  they  landed  at  Liverpool  than  a tele-, 
gram  from  Chapman  announced  that  “ the  snap  had  been  given 
away,”  and  the  forged  bonds  were  therefore  immediately  destroyed. 
Hunted  by  the  police,  Wilkes  and  Spencer  fled  to  London,  and 
thence  back  to  America,  landing  at  Baltimore.  Then  they  went 
into  the  draft-raising  business  again.  At  their  very  first  attempt 
they  made  $13,500.  There  was  a quarrel  among  the  members  of 
the  clique,  the  result  being  that  Wilkes  joined  his  fortunes  with 
those  of  Decker  and  John  Phillips,  who  had  just  emerged  from 
prison  in  Pennsylvania.  Accompanied  by  their  wives,  the  trio 
started  for  England  to  dispose  of  bonds  stolen  from  the  Bank  of 
Trenton,  New  Jersey.  In  London  they  met  “Andy ” Roberts,  and 
had  fair  luck.  Wilkes  came  back  to  America,  to  return  almost  by 
the  next  steamer.  This  sudden  trip  was  to  aid  in  a plot  for  plac- 
ing a “block”  of  $200,000  worth  of  Buffalo  and  Erie  Railroad 
bonds  which  had  been  prepared  by  Roberts.  In  addition  to  these 
bonds  there  was  about  $150,000  worth  of  the  bonds  of  the  Chicago 
Western  and  Southern  Railroad.  These  securities,  however, 
were  not  altogether  perfected.  The  finishing  touches  to  the  Buf- 


A GIGANTIC  SCHEME. 


5 J3 

falo  and  Erie’s  were  put  on  by  “ Andy  ” Roberts,  while  Walter 
Sheridan  completed  the  Chicago  bonds. 

The  plot,  however,  fell  through,  owing  to  bad  management. 
The  gang  dissolved  partnership,  and  Wilkes  returned  to  New  York 
depleted  in  purse,  but  far  richer  in  experience.  He  formed  a com 
bination  with  John  Donahue,  Charles  King,  James  Greene,  and 
‘‘  Phil  ” Hargraves  to  buy  $50,000  worth  of  counterfeit  greenbacks 
to  dispose  of  in  Europe.  The  counterfeits  were  obtained  from 
Charles  Ulrich  and  William  E.  Gray,  at  twelve  and  a half  per  cent, 
of  their  face  value.  Of  this  sum  $20,000  was  lost  in  Europe  by 
Greene  and  King,  who  ventured  to  Italy  and  did  not  know  the  lan- 
guage sufficiently  to  place  the  “ queer.”  Very  little  was  done  with 
the  balance. 

Then  Wilkes  went  into  the  speculation  of  forging  letters  of  credit, 
etc.,  spoken  of  in  the  history  of  William  Griffis,  alias  Lord  Ash- 
burton. His  next  plot  was  to  victimize  the  banking  firm  of  Selig- 
man  & Co.  of  New  York.  He  obtained  genuine  drafts  of  ^1000 
and  £10  from  the  firm  in  question,  upon  their  London  (England) 
correspondents.  In  London  the  gang  had  the  drafts  certified  and 
stamped  in  due  form.  Then  they  proceeded  to  forge  other  drafts 
on  the  firm,  and  netted  $40,000.  These  forgeries  were  accom- 
plished by  raising  smaller  drafts  on  the  London  correspondents, 
and  stamping  them  with  the  spurious  certification. 

Late  in  1879  a gigantic  scheme  of  forging  French  certificates  of 
three  per  cents  was  entered  into  between  Burns,  Wilkes,  Decker,  a 
Dr.  Hamnell  and  a man  named  Picon.  The  certificates  were 
forged  by  Decker,  and  the  venture  proved  a gold  mine  to  the  gang. 
They  next  started  on  letters  of  credit  of  the  Societe  Generate, 
of  Brussels ; but  this  scheme  hung  fire,  and  only  about  13,000 
francs  were  made  by  them.  Then  they  prepared  for  an  Italian  raid. 
Decker  and  Engels  had  got  ready  certificates  of  Italian  stocks  to  the 
amount  of  600,000  francs,  and  the  gang  started  to  negotiate  them. 
Tu  the  hands  of  such  expert  “negotiators”  as  Turns,  John  Carr, 
James  Poswell,  Engels,  Wilkes,  Charles  Baranoff,  and  Charles  Sil 
vio  Bixio  the  certificates  went  like  hot-cakes.  The  forgers  sepa- 
rated into  several  parties,  some  going  as  far  as  Russia  even.  The 
rascals  were  nof  content  with  more  than  a moderate  success,  but 
they  were  desirous  of  trying  their  hand  again  with  the  balance  of 
the  five  per  cent.  Italian  stocks.  The  plot  was  to  “sack”  Naples, 
Rome,  Livorno,  Turin,  and  other  places.  Luck  followed  them 


OFFENCES  AGAINST  THE  EXCISE. 


5*4 

everywhere,  but  they  came  to  grief,  as  before  stated,  in  Turin  and 
Florence. 

I don’t  think  I shall  be  very  much  out  of  the  way  in  saying  that 
during  Wilkes’  career  he  and  his  associates  dealt  in  at  least  $4,000,- 
000  worth  of  forged  and  stolen  securities,  and  that  they  “ realized  ” 
at  least  forty  per  cent,  of  that  amount. 

A policeman  who  had  a mistaken  idea  as  to  his  duties  was  Patrol- 
man Purvis,  of  the  Sixteenth  Precinct,  who  arrested  a well-known 
saloon-keeper  for  selling  liquor  on  Sunday.  He  was  informed 
unofficially  by  the  liquor  interest,  that  in  consequence  of  this  arrest 
he  would  be  transferred  to  some  other  precinct.  Sure  enough  he 
was,  for  in  a very  short  time  he  was  assigned  to  duty  in  the  Twenty- 
ninth,  the  Police  Board  passing  an  order  making  the  transfer. 
While  he  was  in  the  Twenty-ninth  Precinct  he  one  day  received  the 
following  anonymous  letter : 

“Purvis,  my  old  boy,  you  were  told  you  would  be  transferred, 
and  you  have  been.  I hope  you  won’t  be  quite  so  fresh  in  arrest- 
ing people  for  selling  on  Sunday.” 

Let  the  police  do  what  they  may  in  the  matter  of  making  arrests 
for  violations  of  the  excise  law,  they  cannot  stop  them.  Suppose, 
in  the  first  place,  a policeman,  in  citizen’s  clothes,  enters  a saloon 
on  Sunday  and  sees  beer  and  spirits  sold  freely.  He  arrests  the 
bar-tender,  who  is  taken  before  a magistrate.  The  law  says  that  if 
the  accused  demands  a trial  by  jury  it  must  be  granted  him,  the 
amount  of  bail  being  fixed  at  $100.  Then  the  case  goes  to  the 
General  Sessions,  where  it  is  placed  on  file,  never  to  come  up  again 
probably  while  he  lives.  Why  ? Because  I suppose  there  are  not 
far  from  twenty  thousand  such  cases  on  file  there  now,  and  the 
machinery  of  the  court  of  General  Sessions  is  totally  inadequate  to 
deal  with  them. 

I know  of  one  case  where  a patrolman  entered  a lager  beer 
saloon  on  Sunday,  saw  several  sales  of  liquor,  and  then  arrested 
the  seller.  The  magistrate  before  whom  the  accused  was  taken 
asked  the  officer  how  he  knew  that  what  was  sold  was  lager.  He 
even  asked  whether  the  policeman  had  tasted  it  or  not.  The  officer 
replied  that  he  had  not,  but  that  he  heard  persons  ask  for  lager; 
that  they  were  served  with  something  drawn  from  a lager  beer  keg  ; 
and  that  they  paid  the  regular  price  for  lager.  The  magistrate 
thereupon  discharged  the  prisoners. 

In  another  case  of  a like  nature,  the  officer  was  roundly  abused 


HOW  THE  ROOSEVELT  COMMITTEE  WAS  “WORKED.”  5 1 5 

by  the  magistrate  as  a spy  and  a sneak,  for  having  entered  the 
saloon  in  citizen’s  attire.  Shortly  afterwards  the  same  magistrate 
threatened  to  prefer  charges  against  that  very  officer  for  going  into 
another  saloon  while  wearing  his  uniform  ! The  police  are  ham- 
pered in  every  possible  way,  and  it  is  no  wonder  some  of  them 
give  up  as  useless  attempting  to  enforce  this  part  of  the  law. 

While  I was  superintendent  it  was  my  practice  to  send  a com- 
plete record  of  all  the  arrests  for  violations  of  the  excise  law  to  the 
Excise  Commissioners.  If  they  would  only  do  their  duty,  and  re- 
voke the  licenses  of  those  who  break  the  law,  they  would  quickly 
put  a stop  to  all  such  infractions. 

The  Roosevelt  committee,  in  their  report,  credited  the  inspectors 
and  captains  of  police  with  having  used  all  due  diligence.  My 
opinion  is  that  the  finding  of  that  committee  was  not  justified  by 
the  evidence.  Its  members  were  influenced  in  some  way  or  other. 
I know  that  a fund  was  raised  through  the  captains  from  the  men 
in  the  force,  and  turned  over  to  the  inspectors,  who  paid  it  to 
some  one  connected  with  the  committee.  The  force  raised  about 
$13,000,  and  after  the  committee  got  through,  the  lawyers  put  in 
their  bills.  There  was  not  enough  left  to  pay  them,  and  they  had 
to  take  up  a second  collection.  Many  of  the  men  refused  to  pay. 
Anonymous  letters  came  to  me  from  members  of  the  force  pro. 
testing  against  it.  The  method  taken  to  collect  the  assessments 
was  to  have  each  member  of  the  force  “ interviewed  ” while  on 
duty,  and  on  pay-day  he  was  expected  to  hand  his  contribution  to 
the  person  designated  to  collect.  The  information  relative  to  the 
amount  paid  to  some  person  connected  with  the  committee  came 
to  me  some  months  after  the  occurrence. 

In  company  with  Police  Commissioner  Matthews  I went  to 
Europe  on  June  28,  1882.  We  sailed  from  New  York  on  the  Ger- 
mania, for  Havre.  From  there  we  went  to  Rouen,  and  called  on 
the  Prefect  of  Police.  We  told  him  who  we  were,  but  he  wasn’t 
visibly  impressed.  He  only  touched  an  electric  button  on  his  desk 
and  told  the  man  who  answered  the  call  to  show  us  around.  There 
wasn’t  much  to  be  seen.  The  next  day  we  got  an  interpreter,  an 
Englishman  who  was  building  a horse  railway,  and  we  conversed 
with  the  Prefect  at  second-hand.  Americans  who  have  been  on 
the  Continent  can  best  understand  such  enjoyment.  Then  we 
went  to  Paris.  I sent  in  my  card  to  the  Prefect  there,  and  he  re- 
quested me  to  call  the  next  day ; but  it  turned  out  that  he  had  mis- 


MY  VISIT  TO  EUROPE. 


516 

taken  me  for  the  Chief  of  the  Newark,  N.  J.,  police,  who  had  a 
letter  of  introduction  to  him,  from  the  American  minister.  So  he 
sent  me  to  Mace,  the  Chief  of  Detectives.  The  latter  showed  me 
his  collection  of  burglars’  tools,  but  they  did  not  amount  to  much. 
Finally  we  were  presented  to  the  Prefect,  through  the  introduction 
of  the  American  Consul,  Gen.  Walker.  We  had  an  audience  with 
him. 

I met  Miss  Kate  Field  at  Mr.  J.  S.  Hooper’s,  the  American 
vice-consul.  We  stopped  in  Paris  ten  or  twelve  days.  We  took 
breakfast  with  the  Prefect  one  morning  at  Mr.  Walker’s  house. 

I went  into  one  or  two  of  the  police  barracks,  which  are  equiva- 
lent to  our  station-houses.  One  cannot  compare  the  two  police 
systems.  The  French  consists  more  in  doing  military  duty,  nearly 
all  the  members  of  the  force  having  been  in  the  army.  The  gen- 
darmes didn’t  seem  to  attempt  to  regulate  vehicles  in  the  streets  at 
all.  I never  saw  but  one  disturbance,  and  that  was  a very  slight 
one,  occasioned  by  one  team  running  into  another. 

While  in  Paris,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hooper  gave  a reception,  to  which 
we  were  invited  and  had  a very  pleasant  time.  From  the  pen 
of  our  hostess  are  the  delightful  Paris  letters  to  the  press  signed 
Lucy  H.  Hooper.  On  July  14  we  went  to  see  the  review  of  the 
troops  at  Versailles — which  was  a grand  sight. 

In  London  we  visited  Scotland  Yard,  and  I had  an  interview 
with  Superintendent  Williamson.  He  knew  me  by  reputation,  and 
I had  had  frequent  correspondence  with  him.  The  police  there 
have  three  “ watches  ” — eight  hours  each— from  ten  to  six  o’clock, 
six  to  two,  and  two  to  ten  again.  There  are  three  sets  of  men. 

After  staying  a week  or  ten  days  in  London,  we  went  to  Glasgow 
by  the  London  and  North-western  Railroad,  and  then  came  home. 


'*  t 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

THE  DETECTIVE  OF  ROMANCE. — SOME  POPULAR  ERRORS  CORRECTED. 
— LOST  CHILDREN. — MYSTERIOUS  DISAPPEARANCES. — MISSING 

MR.  SMITH. HOW  I FOUND  HIM. STEPPING  OVER  THE  COUNTY 

LINE. — LIVINGSTONE  THE  FORGER. — A CHASE  AS  FAR  AS  CHI- 
CAGO.  AN  ACCOMPLISHED  PENMAN. MORTGAGING  A DEAD 

MAN’S  PROPERTY. — CLEVER  TRICK  ON  A LAWYER. — THE  STORY 
OF  A WATCH. 

Taking  a clew  from  the  detectives  found  in  novels,  one  portion 
of  the  public  believes  that  the  member  of  this  special  branch  of 
the  police  service  possesses  almost  supernatural  powers;  while 
the  other  portion,  more  sceptical,  has  little  faith  in  the  abilities 
of  the  detective  as  he  is  pictured  in  books.  The  detective  of  cur- 
rent romance  is  a superlative  being,  endowed  with  such  pre- 
science, fitted  out  with  such  a wonderful  brain  and  gifted  with  so 
many  more  senses  than  the  average  man  that  I fear  his  true  char 
acter  is  likely  to  be  misunderstood. 

In  a large  city,  there  must  always  exist  a body  of  men  entrusted 
with  the  preservation  of  public  order.  Their  duties  are  distinctly 
defined.  They  serve  the  purposes  of  dealing  with  the  ordinary  of- 
fences which  are  likely  to  occur.  These  men,  the  rank  and  file  of 
the  force,  become  familiar  with  those  portions  of  the  city  entrusted 
to  their  charge,  and  their  services  are  all  the  more  effective  on 
that  account.  Outside  of  this  force,  there  must  exist  another  one, 
of  a more  mobile  character,  which  ought  to  be  in  a certain  meas- 
ure independent  of  the  first,  though  under  the  control  of  the  prin- 
cipal officer  of  the  police.  The  function  of  such  a body  of  men  is 
obvious.  To  draw  a simile  from  army  organization,  the  main  force 
of  the  police  is  the  infantry  ; the  detectives,  the  cavalry  and  the 
scouts.  The  latter  make  the  reconnoissances.  Their  duties  are 
multifarious.  Ready  to  move  anywhere  at  any  time,  their  province 
is  to  anticipate,  if  they  can,  the  commission  of  a crime  ; or,  if  a crim- 
inal act  has  been  already  perpetrated,  to  track  it  to  its  source. 

I confess  that  I have  found  some  difficulty  in  making  clear  to 

5*7 


DETECTIVES  AND  THEORIES. 


5l8 

my  own  mind  what  the  peculiar  traits  are  which  make  a man  an 
efficient  detective  officer.  That  he  must  be  endowed  with  courage 
and  intelligence,  have  alacrity  and  adaptability,  and,  above  every- 
thing, a good  memory  is  quite  evident  to  all.  As  to  what  is  called 
quick-wittedness,  I am  rather  doubtful  as  to  the  indispensableness 
of  that,  because  I have  rarely  found  that  the  one  whose  deductions 
were  very  rapid  was  a safe  man.  The  rapid  generalizer  turns  out 
usually  to  be  one  who  shapes  his  facts  to  his  theories.  A slow- 
thinking  man,  however,  without  powers  of  mental  combination, 
never  could  make  a good  detective.  I have  rather  liked  the  hesi- 
tating man,  the  officer  who  doubted  the  correctness  of  his  own 
theories,  providing  he  constructed  any.  The  cock-sure  man,  I 
have  always  found,  made  a mess  of  his  business.  The  man  with 
a poetical  imagination,  who  gets  greatly  excited,  and  who  frames 
every  day  a new  scheme,  and  tries  them  all  one  after  another,  al- 
ways follows  his  nose  up  a blind  alley. 

I know  of  nothing  more  like  a game  of  chess  than  the  game  of 
thief  catching.  Edgar  Poe  never  could  have  tracked  a robber. 
Clews  are  good  things,  but  some  of  them  are  very  thin  and  impalpa- 
ble ; straws  which  do  not  show  which  way  the  wind  blows.  Some 
men  who  are  detectives  have  been  often  lucky  ; and  I may  say 
that  I have  been  lucky  a great  many  times.  I have  started  from  a 
mere  nothing,  something  which  I thought  at  first  was  insignificant, 
and  which  has  proved  to  be  the  thread  which  led  me  straight 
through  the  labyrinth. 

But  such  good  fortune  does  not  always  smile  upon  the  best 
equipped  of  detectives.  My  own  experience  has  shown  me  hun- 
dreds of  times  how  futile  were  my  hopes.  All  of  a sudden,  when 
the  scent  was  hottest,  when  the  tracks  were  freshest,  when  I 
thought  that  a capture  was  positive,  every  trace  of  the  malefactor 
has  disappeared.  I might  have  been  right  up  to  a certain  point 
and  then  gone  wrong.  Looking  back  at  my  work,  studying  it 
carefully,  step  by  step,  I would  sometimes  find  where  I had  been 
in  error;  but  as  often  as  not,  where  the  blunder  I had  been  guilty 
of  was  I never  -could  discover.  I may  as  well  confess  here  that  I 
never  gave  myself  any  credit  for  extra  keenness,  but  generally  at- 
tributed my  failures  to  my  own  fault. 

It  is  satisfactory,  however,  to  recall  the  fact  that  in  a majority  of 
the  cases  when  criminal  acts  were  followed  up  by  the  police,  the 


FAVORABLE  COMPARISONS. 


519 


capture  of  the  perpetrators  has  followed.  I am  inclined  to  believe 
that  the  difficulty  of  catching  offenders  rather  augments  than  di- 
minishes as  the  years  go  by.  The  skill  of  the  detective  has  in- 
creased, but  the  cunning  of  the  criminal  has  not  lessened  and  means 
of  concealment  are  more  readily  attainable. 

In  a large  city  like  New  York,  to  find  a certain  man  is  like 
hunting  for  a needle  in  a hay-stack.  As  the  avenues  of  travel  mul- 
tiply, the  methods  of  escape  become  easier.  When  the  perpetrator 
of  a criminal  act  in  New  York  may,  within  a week,  notwithstanding 
the  use  of  the  telegraph,  be  walking  safely  in  the  streets  of  San 
Francisco,  the  increasing  difficulties  of  detective  work  are  at  once 
apparent.  Our  system  of  surveillance  differs  entirely  from  that 
employed  in  France,  especially  in  Paris,  where  the  goings  and 
comings  of  their  criminal  class  are  closely  watched.  I have  some 
acquaintance  with  the  methods  employed  at  the  Rue  Jerusalem,  in 
Paris,  acquired  by  personal  examination  there,  and  I am  quite 
certain  that  the  probability  of  the  capture  of  thieves  and  the  res- 
toration of  property  is  about  the  same  in  New  York  as  in  Paris. 
In  London,  the  comparison  made  by  me  between  the  work  of  the 
English  and  the  New  York  detective  was  rather  creditable  to  the 
superior  skill  or,  at  any  rate,  success,  of  our  own  men. 

In  describing  not  so  much  a perfect  detective  as  the  peculiari- 
ties of  his  calling,  I should  be  doing  an  injustice  if  I did  not  state 
that  there  is  a certain  element  of  romance  about  his  work.  The 
detective  must  have,  at  times,  histrionic  traits,  and  must  be  able 
not  only  to  wear  a disguise,  but  to  enact  the  personage  he  assumes 
to  be.  If  the  thief  ingratiates  himself  among  honest  men  in 
order  to  plunder  them,  so  the  honest  man  associates  with  thieves 
in  order  to  frustrate  their  plans.  It  requires  no  small  amount  of 
sang  froid  and  self-command  to  shadow  a man  for  days,  and  to  as- 
sume an  indifferent  manner;  I can  allege  from  my  own  experience 
that  it  is  very  trying  and  exasperating  work. 

After  weeks  of  apparent  idleness  and  unconcern,  all  of  a sudden, 
in  an  instant,  the  time  of  action  comes.  Like  everything  else,  after 
a while  the  detective  gets  accustomed  to  his  peculiar  work,  and 
rather  likes  it.  To  ride  with  a man  in  a horse-car,  whose  every 
action  it  is  your  business  to  know  ; to  find  out  all  you  can  about 
him  ; to  stamp  his  features  indelibly  on  your  memory  ; to  see  him  on 
the  steps  of  his  own  house  ; to  try  to  make  out  what  he  would  look 
like  without  his  disguise,  while  you  are  apparently  doing  anything 


520 


THE  WORK  OF  A “SHADOW.” 


else  than  paying  particular  attention  to  him,  is  an  art  not  acquired 
in  an  instant.  Remember  that  the  man  you  are  watching  is  no 
fool.  He  is  expecting  to  be  watched.  He  is  never  entirely  off  his 
guard.  If  you  caught  his  eye,  if  you  made  any  uncalled-for  move- 
ment, he  would  be  as  the  wily  fox,  who  scents  the  dogs  from  afar. 

If  the  suspicious  man  has  been  for  any  considerable  time  en- 
gaged in  criminal  pursuits,  you  may  be  quite  certain  that  he  is 
well  up  in  his  knowledge  of  the  New  York  detective,  and  not  alone 
the  New  York  detective,  but  those  on  similar  service  in  many  other 
cities.  He  has  a nose  for  a detective.  Your  assumed  indifference 
as  a detective  may  be  humored  and  recognized  by  him.  When  he 
once  believes  you  are  after  him,  he  will  lead  you  an  interminable 
chase,  which  nine  times  out  of  ten  will  terminate  in  your  losing 
him  entirely. 

The  preliminary  study  necessary  before  the  regular  detective 
work  begins  is  sometimes  very  great.  A crime  is  committed,  a 
murder  for  instance,  and  in  the  confused  condition  of  public  alarm 
three  or  four  or  more  persons  are  suspected.  All  the  details  of 
the  lives  of  these  persons  have  to  be  looked  up — their  past, 
their  present  condition,  their  character,  their  motives.  Often 
such  information  is  most  difficult  to  obtain,  because  investigations 
have  to  be  prosecuted  in  a noiseless  way.  It  frequently  happens 
that  it  is  the  head  of  the  police  department  who,  having  unravelled 
these  tangled  threads,  gives  the  winding  up  of  them  to  the  de- 
tective. The  public  then  blindly  credits  the  detective  with  the  cap- 
ture, entirely  overlooking  the  person  who  at  his  desk  has  laid  the 
elaborate  plan  which  led  directly  to  the  execution  of  justice. 

Sometimes,  what  might  be  called  the  refinement  of  detective  work 
is  carried  out.  It  may  be  that  a counterfeiter  is  to  be  captured. 
He  has  issued  spurious  coin.  The  laws  have  been,  however,  so 
framed  that  unless  the  man  is  discovered  in  the  act  of  manufact. 
uring  the  false  notes  or  the  false  coins,  punishment  would  be  dif- 
ficult. To  get  into  the  forger’s  or  counterfeiter’s  confidence  and 
to  catch  him  in  the  very  act  of  counterfeiting  may  be  called  one  of 
the  triumphs  of  detective  skill.  The  successful  accomplishment 
of  an  arrest  of  this  character  is  often  more  difficult  than  to  trace  a 
murderer. 

Murders,  it  may  be  said,  are  not  as  often  the  work  of  clever  crimi- 
nals, as  of  unaccomplished  ones.  Putting  aside  the  elements  of 
passion,  as  hate,  or  love,  or  jealousy,  Cain  kills  Abel  most  fre- 


LOST  PEOPLE. 


521 


quently  for  his  money.  The  house  breaker  does  not  wish  to  kill. 
Occasional  killing  may  be  said  to  be  one  of  the  accidents  of  his 
calling.  He  may  turn  suddenly  when  cornered  or  discovered,  and 
desperately  use  his  knife  or  pistol.  In  such  a case,  when  a man 
has  been  killed  for  the  sake  of  plunder  in  a city,  it  is  wiser  to  seek 
for  his  murderer  in  the  lower  stratum  of  society.  But  when  death 
seeks  a victim  from  jealousy  the  clews  are  more  apparent. 

How  frequently  do  we  read  in  the  papers  that  John  Smith  or  Wil- 
liam Jones  left  his  house  at  a certain  time  and  has  not  been  heard 
of  since.  And  as  for  children,  the  number  of  them  who  are  daily 
reported  as  having  disappeared  is  remarkable.  The  parents  rush 
to  the  station-house,  saying  their  child  had  been  seen  with  a wo- 
man and  they  concluded  it  had  been  kidnapped.  The  friends  and 
relatives  of  missing  people  get  unnecessarily  alarmed,  and  con- 
clude that  something  dreadful  has  happened  to  them  should  they 
be  absent  for  a few  hours  beyond  their  usual  time.  But  then,  as  a 
rule,  the  children  all  return  home,  and  so  do  the  adults.  This  is 
the  greatest  difficulty  the  police  have  to  contend  with ; they  are 
told  when  people  are  lost,  but  no  one  bothers  himself  to  vouchsafe 
information  as  to  when  they  return.  We  send  orders  to  the  cap- 
tains of  precincts  to  make  inquiries  as  to  whether  parties  had  re- 
turned home,  and  to  notify  us  immediately  of  the  fact.  Frequently 
a man  would  be  absent  for  a day  or  two,  and  would  explain 
the  matter  on  his  return  by  saying  that  he  was  carried  off  by  the 
cars,  omitting  to  state,  however,  why  he  had  not  got  off  at  the  first 
station. 

We  adopt  a number  of  precautions  to  protect  people  who  are 
strangers  in  the  city,  or  who  have  met  with  some  untoward  acci- 
dent. The  orders  are  very  precise  on  this  point.  When  people 
are  found  sick  in  the  streets,  and  are  unable  to  tell  their  names,  but 
are  identified  by  papers  found  on  them  they  are  sent  to  their  homes. 
The  order  is  if  a person  is  found  sick  on  the  streets  and  is  unable 
to  tell  his  name,  a description  of  him  must  be  telegraphed  and 
that  description  is  sent  to  a man  who  has  special  charge  of  such 
matters.  When  inquiry  is  made  about  an  individual,  the  record  of 
arrests  and  accidents  is  first  examined.  The  police  are  bound  to 
keep  a book  for  this  purpose.  Let  us  suppose,  for  instance,  that  a 
young  lady  has  fallen  ill  on  the  street,  and  is  unable  to  tell  her  name 
and  address.  The  police  telegraph  that  a lady  was  found  in  such 
a condition,  describe  her  age,  if  they  can  guess  at  that,  size  and 


522 


SMITH  IS  MISSING. 


other  points  by  which  she  might  be  identified.  Should  she  be  able 
to  tell  her  name,  or  her  address  be  found  upon  her,  we  immediately 
send  word  to  the  house  in  question.  If  no  address  is  to  be  found, 
we  put  her  in  the  hospital.  In  the  height  of  summer,  when  people 
are  prostrated  by  the  sun,  such  cases  are  of  common  occurrence.  I 
have  known  as  many  as  from  twenty  to  thirty  children  a day  brought 
to  us  in  July  and  August.  A full  description  is  telegraphed  to  the 
Central  Office,  if  the  child  can  tell  its  name  ; parents  come  to  head- 
quarters and  recover  their  darling.  If  we  can  get  no  information 
from  the  youngster  on  this  point,  it  is  placed  in  the  care  of  the  ma- 
tron, Mrs.  Webb,  until  somebody  comes  along  and  claims  the  child. 

During  the  earlier  portion  of  my  career  on  the  police  force,  I 
remember  several  cases  of  persons  missing  from  their  homes  ; but 
the  one  which  stands  out  most  prominently  is  that  which  I will  now 
relate  : 

Mr.  Thomas  Smith,  whom  I well  knew,  was  a constable  residing 
at  Middletown  Point,  now  named  Mattawan,  Monmouth  Co.,  N.  J., 
in  1856,  and  in  the  Fall  of  that  year  mysteriously  disappeared. 
The  information  was  brought  to  me  by  two  gentlemen,  Messrs. 
David  Warner  and  Eusebius  Walling,  the  latter  of  whom  was  a 
relative.  Mr.  Smith's  family,  they  said,  were  very  much  distressed 
over  his  disappearance.  When  he  left  home,  over  a week  pre- 
viously, he  told  his  friends  he  was  going  to  New  York  on  business, 
and  as  the  garrotting  scare  was  then  at  its  height,  they  feared  foul 
play.  Somewhat  curious  as  to  the  cause  which  induced  Messrs. 
Warner  and  Walling  to  take  such  an  interest  in  the  matter,  I made 
inquiries,  and  learned  that  Smith,  in  the  course  of  his  regular 
duties,  had  collected  some  $ 2000  of  taxes  for  which  he  had  not  ac- 
counted, and  that  the  two  gentlemen  above  mentioned  were  his 
bondsmen.  To  find  any  trace  of  Smith  was  a difficult  matter,  but 
I found  out  from  Warner  that  the  missing  man  had  once  told  him 
that  he  had  some  relatives  in  the  western  part  of  New  York  State. 
This  was  not  much  of  a clew,  but  still  there  was  a chance  that 
Smith  might  be  there.  I was  not  on  duty  at  the  time,  and  had  an 
idea  that  some  experience  might  be  gained  by  following  the  matter 
up.  I therefore  took  the  train  for  a station  not  far  from  the  ter- 
minus of  the  road.  I walked  some  miles  on  foot  until  I reached 
the  place.  Before  starting,  some  of  Smith’s  letters  had  been 
handed  me,  and  during  the  journey  I had  studied  the  handwriting 
thoroughly  and  was  perfectly  familiar  with  its  peculiarities.  Arrived 


523 


“got  a team  there.” 

at  the  only  hotel  in  the  place,  I at  first  made  no  inquiries.  Enter- 
ing a fictitious  name  on  the  hotel  register,  I scanned  the  pages. 
There  was  no  “ Smith  ” on  the  first  or  second  pages,  so  I turned 
further  back,  and  finally  made  out  a signature,  the  handwriting  of 
which  closely  resembled  that  of  the  missing  constable. 

I questioned  the  hotel  proprietor : “ Did  he  remember  one  of  his 
guests  of  some  days  previously — the  gentleman  whose  name 
was  written  there  ? ” pointing  it  out. 

“ Yes,”  he  did  ; and  he  proceeded  to  describe  Smith,  who  was 
a man  past  fifty  years  of  age — tall,  slim,  wrinkled  face,  and  carry- 
ing a gold-headed  cane. 

“ Where  did  he  go  ? ” I inquired. 

“ I’m  sure  I can’t  tell.  I remember  he  wanted  to  hire  a convey- 
ance of  me,  but  as  I don’t  keep  a horse  I sent  him  to  the  livery 
stable  round  the  corner.  Guess  he  got  a team  there.” 

I immediately  called  upon  the  livery-stable  keeper. 

“ Do  you  remember  a slim,  oldish-looking  man,  pretty  well 
wrinkled,  with  a gold-headed  cane,  who  hired  a horse  and  buggy 
of  you  about  a week  ago  ? ” I asked. 

“ Certainly  I do,”  was  the  prompt  reply. 

“ Did  he  drive  himself,  or  did  you  send  some  one  with  him  ? ” 
was  my  next  question. 

“ One  of  my  men  took  him,”  said  the  liveryman. 

“ Well,  then,  send  round  a horse  and  wagon  to  the  hotel  for 
me,”  said  I,  “and,  above  all,  that  same  driver.” 

In  less  than  ten  minutes,  horse,  wagon  and  driver  were  at  the 
door. 

“ Now,  my  man,”  said  I,  “ I want  you  to  drive  me  exactly  to  the 
place  where  that  old  gentleman  went  with  you.  Put  me  down 
precisely  at  the  same  spot.” 

The  driver  took  me  quite  a long  journey,  but  finally  stopped  at  a 
small  village  and  let  me  out.  I walked  to  the  hotel,  had  some  din- 
ner, and  then  engaged  in  conversation  with  the  proprietor.  In  the 
course  of  our  chat  I asked  him  if  he  remembered  a certain  old 
gentleman  coming  there  a week  previously,  who  had  a gold-headed 
cane  with  him. 

“Yes,”  he  said;  “he  wanted  to  know  the  way  to  a family  of 
the  name  of  Smith,  who  lived  not  far  from  here.  Real  nice, 
pious  old  man  ; goes  to  church  ; I saw  him  in  the  village  last  Sun- 
day.” 


524  “how  ARE  YOU,  MR.  SMITH?” 

That  was  enough  for  me.  I sought  a Justice  of  the  Peace  and 
procured  a warrant.  The  charge  I made  against  Smith  was  the 
embezzlement  of  public  money.  I needed  a constable  too,  and 
accordingly  secured  one.  This  constable,  if  he  was  a country  one, 
was  bright  enough,  for  he  said  to  me  : “ Look  here,  that  warrant  is 
all  well  enough  ; but  it’s  only  good  for  this  county.  Smith’s  house 
is  on  the  other  side  of  the  road,  in  another  county.  I’m  afraid 
you  won’t  be  able  to  get  him  ” 

“Much  obliged  to  you,”  I remarked  ; “but  for  all  that  we  must 
find  some  way  of  getting  hold  of  him.” 

Hiring  a team,  towards  evening  the  constable  and  I started  for 
the  house  at  which  we  supposed  Mr.  Smith  was  staying.  By-the- 
bye,  I took  the  precaution  of  carrying  with  me  a carriage  lamp,  the 
utility  of  which  will  appear  later  on. 

“ There’s  the  place,”  said  the  constable,  pointing  with  his  whip 
to  a little  farm  house,  set  a short  distance  back  from  the  roadway. 

“ Now  light  the  lamp,”  I said ; “ and  haul  the  wagon  up  on 
the  side  of  the  road  which  is  in  your  county.” 

He  did  so,  hitching  the  horse  to  a fence.  There  was  a light  in 
the  kitchen,  and  walking  up  the  path  I looked  in  at  the  window. 
There  was  the  missing  man,  seated  very  comfortably  and  engaged 
in  reading  a newspaper.  I went  back  to  my  companion  and  in- 
formed him  that  our  man  was  inside,  sure  enough.  “ You  are  ac- 
quainted with  the  people,”  I observed;  “so  you  go  ahead.  I’ll 
follow.” 

The  constable  knocked,  the  door  was  opened,  and  we  entered. 

“ How  are  you,  Mr.  Smith  ? ” said  the  constable ; and 

“ How  are  you,  Mr.  Thomas  Smith  ? ” was  added  by  me. 

Smith  had  known  me  ever  since  I was  a boy,  and  at  once  rose 
from  his  seat. 

“ Why,  how  are  you,  Wash,”  he  said,  “ what  are  you  doing  here  ? ” 

Smith  was  very  effusive,  and  really  played  his  part  very  well. 

“ The  fact  of  the  matter  is,  Mr.  Smith,”  I replied,  “ I’ve  come 
to  see  you.  Your  people  were  fearful  that  you  had  been  garroted 
in  New  York,  and  that  your  body  had  been  thrown  into  the  water. 
But  now  I find  you  alive  and  well  1 should  like  to  see  you  in  pri- 
vate for  a minute  or  two.  Come  outside.”  Suspecting  nothing, 
Smith  came  to  the  door. 

“ I have  a letter  I want  you  to  look  at,”  said  I ; “ but  it’s  too 
dark  here,”  and  I led  him  to  the  lamp  in  the  wagon.  As  soon  as 


“ WASH  KETCHED  YOU.”  525 

he  put  his  foot  over  the  county  line,  the  constable  clapped  his 
hand  on  his  shoulder  and  told  him  he  was  a prisoner.  For  my 
part,  I at  once  taxed  him  with  having  run  off  with  $ 2000 , and  care- 
fully searched  both  him  and  his  baggage,  but  found  only  a few  dol- 
lars in  his  pockets. 

Upon  asking  him  what  had  become  of  the  money,  Smith  solemnly 
avowed  that  he  had  been  robbed  of  it  in  New  York.  This  story  I 
did  not  believe  for  one  instant,  but  hurried  him  to  New  York, 
and  turned  him  over  to  Supt.  Matsell.  Of  course  I was  exceed- 
ingly annoyed  at  my  failure  to  recover  the  money,  and  watched 
my  prisoner  pretty  closely.  While  I was  communicating  the  facts 
in  the  case  to  my  chief,  Smith  appeared  very  uneasy  and  ner- 
vous, protesting  his  innocence  in  a manner  that  was  really  pathetic. 
Suddenly  I noticed  a furtive  effort  on  the  part  of  Smith  to  handle 
and  fumble  with  his  waistcoat.  He  did  this  two  or  three  times, 
and  all  at  once  it  flashed  across  my  mind  that  he  had  at  one  time 
been  a tailor.  That  waistcoat  concealed  something,  and  I must 
have  it.  He  took  it  off,  and  I scrutinized  it  all  over  very  care- 
fully. The  stitches  in  the  lining  were  apparently  all  right ; but 
still  I was  not  satisfied.  I took  out  my  pen-knife,  ripped  open  the 
inside  seam  near  the  button-holes,  and  there  was  the  money  or,  at 
least,  $1800  of  it,  nicely  quilted  in  1 

That  afternoon  Smith  was  taken,  under  my  charge,  to  Keyport, 
N.  J.,  and  confronted  with  his  bondsmen. 

“ If  you  will  go  to  my  house,”  said  he,  “ the  rest  of  the  money 
will  be  found.”  We  went  there,  and  the  remaining  money,  $ 200 , 
was  found  concealed  in  a bed.  It  was  a singular  case.  Here  was 
a man  ostensibly  honest  for  forty  years,  who  all  at  once  could  not 
resist  temptation. 

The  news  of  Smith’s  capture  made  a decided  sensation  at  Key- 
port.  The  whole  town  was  out  of  doors  when  Smith  was  brought 
there.  Perhaps  what  was  hardest  for  Smith  to  bear  were  the 
mocking  taunts  of  some  of  the  Keyport  bad  boys.  It  is  probable 
that  some  of  these  urchins  had  held  Smith  in  awe,  and  he  might  in 
former  days  have  threatened  them  with  punishment  for  some 
trifling  delinquencies.  I remember  some  of  them,  notwithstanding 
my  efforts  to  the  contrary,  jeering  Smith  with  their  cries,  such  as : 
“Tried  to  run  away  with  money  that  wasn’t  yourn,  did  yer?  But 
Wash  ketched  you.” 

It  is  not  generally  known,  but  Thomas  Worth,  the  artist,  was  at 


526 


THOMAS  WORTH’S  SKETCH. 


one  time  a teller  in  the  City  Bank,  and  it  was  only  by  the  merest 
accident  that  he  did  not  remain  in  that  position  all  his  life.  And 
the  way  it  came  about  was  in  connection  with  one  of  the  cheekiest 
forgeries  I ever  remember.  It  happened  in  July,  1867,  one  day  in 
which  month  a stout,  good-humored  fellow,  attired  in  a sort  of 
“ cheese-cutter  ” cap  and  a short  sack  jacket,  drove  up  in  front  of 
the  City  Bank  in  an  express  wagon,  drawn  by  a pair  of  magnificent 
black  horses.  The  man  alighted,  and  walking  into  the  bank  in  an 
easy,  off-hand  manner,  laid  on  Worth’s  desk  a check  for  $75,000, 
seemingly  signed  by  Cornelius  Vanderbilt  in  favor  of  “Henry 
Keep.”  Apparently,  the  signature  was  genuine,  and  as  it  was  no 
uncommon  occurrence  for  the  Commodore  to  withdraw  his  money 
in  just  such  an  unceremonious  manner,  the  cash  was  done  up  in  a 
package  and  delivered  to  the  man.  He  carefully  examined  it  to 
satisfy  himself  as  to  the  correctness  of  the  amount,  engaged  in  con- 
versation with  the  cashier  for  a minute  or  so,  then  strolled  leisurely 
out  of  the  bank,  mounted  the  seat  in  his  wagon,  and  drove  off. 
Nothing  more  was  thought  of  the  matter  by  the  bank  officials, 
until  at  the  expiration  of  seven  weeks,  when  Mr.  Vanderbilt  dis- 
claimed any  knowledge  of  having  given  such  a check.  In  fact, 
it  was  a forgery  ! When  asked  to  describe  the  personal  appear- 
ance of  the  individual  who  had  presented  the  forged  check,  Worth 
was  unable  to  do  so  verbally,  but  taking  his  pen  drew  a rough 
sketch  of  the  man  as  he  remembered  him. 

Detective  George  Elder  (poor  fellow,  he  died  only  a short 
time  ago)  was  shown  the  rough  sketch,  and  immediately  ex- 
claimed : 

“Why,  that’s  John  Livingstone.” 

Here  was  a clew  certainly,  but  the  daring  forger  had  seven 
weeks’  start  of  his  pursuers.  Elder  was  detailed  to  work  up  the 
case,  and  he  very  soon  discovered  that  his  man  had  located  him- 
self somewhere  not  far  from  Chicago.  Knowing  that  Living- 
stone had  a weakness  for  horse-flesh,  Elder  learned,  by  judicious 
inquiries  in  that  particular  direction,  that  his  man  had  purchased 
some  fine  horses,  etc.,  at  various  points  on  the  road,  saying  he 
was  going  to  set  up  a stock  farm.  By  this  means  Elder  traced 
him  to  a farm  which  he  had  purchased,  about  forty  miles  from 
Chicago.  Thither,  one  morning,  the  detective,  in  company  with 
some  two  or  three  friends,  went,  and  accosted  the  suspected 
forger,  who  met  them  at  the  front  door,  with : 


UNAPPRECIATIVE  BANK  OFFICERS.  527 

“ Good  morning,  Mr.  Livingstone.” 

Livingstone  made  no  reply,  and  Elder  tried  again. 

“ Did  you  leave  everybody  well  in  New  York  ? ” 

“ Sir,”  was  the  reply,  “ I never  was  in  New  York  in  my  life. 
I don’t  understand  you.” 

“ Well,  then,  you’ll  soon  have  a chance  of  going  there ; ” saying 
which,  Elder  put  the  handcuffs  on  him,  at  the  same  moment  im- 
parting the  information  that  he  was  under  arrest  for  forgery. 

Livingstone  was  a sensible  man  and  consented  to  return  East 
with  his  captor,  so  Elder  quickly  hitched  up  the  same  pair  of 
horses  with  which  he  had  driven  up  to  the  bank,  and  made  the 
best  possible  time  for  Indiana,  pursued  at  no  great  distance  by 
Chicago  lawyers  armed  with  writs  of  habeas  corpus.  Elder,,  how- 
ever, managed  to  get  his  prisoner  aboard  a train  in  safety,  and 
soon  landed  him  in  New  York. 

Elder  succeeded  in  recovering  about  $50,000  of  the  amount 
which  had  been  obtained  by  means  of  the  forged  check,  but  even 
this  did  not  satisfy  the  bank  authorities,  who  strongly  hinted  that 
more  might  have  been  obtained  if  he  had  desired.  Naturally 
enough,  Elder,  who  had  really  worked  hard  and  faithfully  on  the 
case,  was  very  indignant  at  the  accusation,  and  hot  words  ensued. 
The  bank  refused  to  pay  any  reward,  and  it  was  only  with  the 
greatest  difficulty  that  Elder  could  induce  them  to  refund  him 
the  amount  he  had  disbursed  in  following  up  the  criminal. 

Worth’s  reputation  as  an  artist  was  brought  about  and  assured 
through  his  rough  sketch  of  Livingstone  from  memory.  He  soon 
afterwards  left  the  employ  of  the  bank,  and  his  subsequent 
career  is  well  known.  Elder  won  renewed  laurels  by  his  skil- 
ful work  in  successfully  following  up  the  clew  afforded  by  the 
picture,  while  Livingstone  also  reaped  a benefit  from  it  in  the 
shape  of  a long  term  of  imprisonment  in  Sing  Sing. 

Some  thirty  years  ago  there  resided  in  Chicago  an  individual 
named  Thomas  D.  Lawson,  a most  accomplished  penman.  His 
skill  was  something  wonderful,  and  had  his  energies  been  directed 
in  the  right  path  he  might  have  won  for  himself  a respectable  posi- 
tion in  society.  He  obtained  distinction,  however,  in  quite  an- 
other way.  Contemporaneously  with  Mr.  Lawson,  the  brewing 
firm  of  Gunsenhauser  & Co.,  was  also  famous  in  the  annals  of 
Chicago.  This  firm  was  uniformly  prosperous,  and  Gunsenhau- 
ser himself  died  in  1858,  leaving  a large  fortune.  The  shrewd 


528 


FRANCIS  B.  CUTTING’S  CLIENT. 


brewer  had  the  foresight  and  judgment  to  see  that  there  was 
much  wealth  to  be  acquired  by  the  purchase  of  land  in  the  al- 
ready fast-growing  city,  and  therefore  invested  the  greater  portion 
of  his  means  in  realty.  When  he  died,  his  extensive  estate  was 
naturally  a big  temptation  to  sharpers,  and  a band  of  them  deter- 
mined to  see  what  they  could  make  out  of  it.  With  this  end  in 
view,  they  managed  to  gain  the  good  graces  of  Lawson,  who  under 
their  direction  executed  a number  of  deeds  and  mortgages,  trans- 
ferring portions  of  the  deceased  brewer’s  landed  property,  all 
drawn  up  and  engrossed  in  proper  form.  All  these  documents 
were  antedated,  as  if  they  had  been  executed  during  the  lifetime 
of  Gunsenhauser.  Each  of  them,  too,  was  also  recorded.  To 
have  offered  these  deeds  for  sale  in  Chicago  would  have  led  to 
certain  detection,  so  some  of  them  were  disposed  of  in  other 
places.  New  York,  however,  became  the  principal  base  of  oper- 
ations, and  thus,  when  in  charge  of  the  detective  force,  the  mat- 
ter came  under  my  notice. 

The  swindlers  were  at  first  very  successful.  The  parties  with 
whom  they  entered  into  negotiations  for  the  purchase  of  the  mort- 
gages took  the  usual  precaution  of  sending  to  Chicago  for  infor- 
mation. The  examinations  were  made,  and  the  transactions  hav- 
ing been  reported  apparently  correct,  large  sums  of  money  were 
paid  to  the  forgers  on  the  completion  of  the  purchases. 

Not  long  after,  the  buyers  discovered  that  they  had  been  swin- 
dled, the  brewer’s  heirs  showing  very  clearly  that  no  such  mort- 
gages had  ever  been  made,  and  that  the  whole  of  the  transactions 
were  fraudulent. 

I set  detectives  on  the  track  and  in  a very  short  time  I had  a 
number  of  the  suspected  persons  under  arrest.  One  of  these  was 
Lawson,  who  secured  the  services  of  Mr.  Francis  B.  Cutting,  an 
eminent  lawyer,  well  known  in  New  York,  who  occupied  an  elegant 
house  on  Fifth  Avenue.  Lawson  succeeded  in  convincing  his 
counsel  of  his  innocence. 

Mr.  Cutting,  as  is  usual,  insisted  upon  the  entire  counsel  fee 
of  $1000  being  paid.  This  seemed  at  first  impossible,  as  Lawson’s 
brothers  in  crime  had  turned  a cold  shoulder  to  their  accomplished 
penman  ; however,  after  some  delay,  the  money  was  paid.  The 
day  of  the  trial  came.  Mr.  Cutting  made  a very  eloquent  appeal 
to  the  court,  pointing  out  that  Mr.  Lawson  was  not  only  innocent 
but  a persecuted  and  much-wronged  man.  His  address  created  a 


“iVE  BEEN  ROBBED.”  529 

great  impression  on  the  jury,  but  in  spite  of  this  Lawson  was  con- 
victed. He  felt  grateful  for  his  counsel’s  able  efforts,  and  did  not 
regret  the  payment  of  so  large  a retainer. 

It  transpired  afterwards  that  the  cause  of  the  delay  in  raising 
this  money  was  that  Lawson  was  negotiating  the  mortgaging  of 
some  New  York  property.  At  length  all  arrangements  were  com- 
pleted, and  the  mortgage  was  duly  executed  and  recorded.  The 
consideration  was  $1500,  $500  of  which  Lawson  kept  for  himself, 
paying  the  remainder  over  to  his  counsel.  But  imagine  Mr.  Cut- 
ting’s astonishment  and  rage  when,  upon  looking  over  the  records, 
he  found  that  his  own  mansion  on  Fifth  Avenue  was  the 
identical  property  upon  which  the  money  had  been  advanced. 
It  was  a clever  dodge,  no  doubt.  Criminals  very  seldom  play 
any  such  tricks  on  their  lawyers,  but  this  one  certainly  displayed 
a grim  humor  that  was  notable. 

One  day,  some  fourteen  or  fifteen  years  ago,  while  I was  in  com- 
mand of  the  detective  force,  I was  sitting  in  my  office,  which 
was  then  at  the  corner  of  Broome  and  Elm  streets,  when 
two  of  my  men — Thomas  Sampson  and  James  Bennett — 
came  in,  bringing  with  them  a well-known  thief  and  fence  named 
Dreyfus.  The  officers  were  walking  along  the  Bowery,  and 
saw  him  slip  into  a saloon  by  the  side  door,  in  a manner  which  sug- 
gested the  idea  that  he  had  particular  reasons  for  not  being  seen. 
They  followed  him  in,  and  finding  he  had  taken  refuge  in  the 
water-closet  concluded  to  bring  him  to  me.  Upon  arriving  at 
my  office,  his  clothing  was  searched,  but  nothing  was  found  which 
could  criminate  him.  At  length  I told  him  to  hold  out  his  hands, 
which  he  did,  and  in  one  of  them  was  a gold  watch. 

“ Ah  ! gold  watch,  eh  ? Where  did  you  get  this  ? ” I asked. 

“ That  watch,”  replied  Dreyfus,  “ is  one  I’ve  had  for  twenty 
years,  and  I was  just  going  to  have  it  mended.” 

“All  right,”  was  my  only  observation,  saying  which  I opened  the 
case  of  the  watch  and  found  that  the  pin  had  been  removed,  so 
that  the  works  could  be  taken  out  at  a moment’s  notice.  This  was 
suspicious,  to  say  the  least,  and  I accordingly  ordered  Dreyfus  to 
be  locked  up.  He  could  not  have  been  in  his  cell  more  than  an 
hour,  when  in  rushed  a man, — a stranger  to  me, — loudly  exclaim- 
ing : “ I’ve  been  robbed  ! ” 

When  he  had  calmed  down  a little,  I learned  that  he  was  a 
watchmaker  and  jeweller  on  the  Bower  and  that  ver”  afternoon 


53o 


IT  VAS  MINE.” 


he  hacl  been  visited  by  two  young  men,  who  looked  at  quite  a 
number  of  watches,  but  did  not  make  a purchase.  After  they  had 
left  he  found  a valuable  gold  watch  was  missing. 

I should  say  that  I had  written  on  my  blotter  the  number  and 
description  of  the  watch  taken  from  Dreyfus,  while  the  watch  itself 
was  on  the  desk,  covered  with  a newspaper.  I asked  the  man  who 
had  complained  to  me  the  number,  etc.,  of  his  watch,  and  it  cor- 
responded. Calling  him  behind  the  railing,  I lifted  the  newspaper 
and  asked  : 

“ Is  that  your  watch  ? ” 

“ Mine  Gott ! ” he  exclaimed,  raising  his  hands  in  astonishment) 
“ Vere  you  get  dot'  vatch.  It  vas  mine.” 

Telling  him  he  would  see  in  a few  minutes,  I ordered  Dreyfus 
to  be  brought  up  from  his  cell.  When  confronted  with  the  store- 
keeper he  was  at  once  recognized  as  being  one  of  the  young  men 
who  had  paid  him  a visit  in  the  afternoon. 

While  it  was  never  my  custom  to  bandy  jokes  with  prisoners  who 
were  brought  before  me,  I could  not  refrain  on  this  occasion  from 
remarking  to  Dreyfus  it  was  very  funny  he  had  carried  the  watch 
for  twenty  years,  and  yet  the  watch  dealer  was  able  to  describe  it 
accurately,  even  mentioning  a slight  scratch  which  there  was  on 
the  inside  of  the  case. 

“ Yes,”  was  the  reply  which  Dreyfus  made,  with  the  gravest 
imaginable  look  on*  his  face  ; “ dot  was  very  funny.”  Despite  this 
assertion,  however,  he  was  sent  to  Sing  Sing  for  a term  of  years. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 


TRAIN  ROBBERS  IN  HOBOKEN,  N.  J. — THE  •CASHTCTR’s  SATCHEL. — A 
BALKY  HORSE. — CLEVERLY  CAPTURED. — EX-POLICEMAN  NU* 
GENT’S  EXPLOIT. — THE  CHARLTON  STREET  GANG  OF  PIRATES. — 
SILK  STEALING  ON  A STORMY  NIGHT. — BANK  BURGLARS  FOILED. 
— HOW  MR.  ALEXANDER’S  PLAN  MISCARRIED. — POTS  OF  11  JAM.” 
— THE  CONSPIRACY  FOILED. — “ JOHNNY  ” ROWE  AlND  HIS  CLUB- 
HOUSE.— HOW  THE  PLUMBER  WAS  ROPED  IN. HIS  REVENGE. 

In  Chapter  XIX.  reference  is  made  to  one  Nugent,  a police 
officer,  who  was  suspected  of  complicity  in  the  great  Manhattan 
Bank  robbery.  Some  interesting  details  have  been  given  me  con- 
cerning his  subsequent  fate  by  that  very  able  and  distinguished 
police  official,  Chief  Charles  A.  Donovan,  of  Hoboken,  who  has 
been  at  the  head  of  the  Hoboken  police  force  for  nearly  twenty- 
one  years,  and  who,  I trust,  has  still  many  honorable  years  of  ser- 
vice before  him. 

It  is  not  an  uncommon  thing  to  read  of  the  exploits  of  Western 
train-robbers.  The  Jameses,  the  Youngers,  the  Colemans  and 
others  have  cast  a sort  of  infamous  halo  about  this  detestable  spe- 
cies of  crime.  But  it  will  hardly  be  believed  that  not  so  very  long 
ago,  within  sight  of  the  metropolis,  a bold  attempt  was  made  to 
introduce  the  Western  methods  upon  a railroad  centring  in  the 
very  heart  of  civilization. 

In  the  year  1883,  Mr.  Thomas  J.  Smith  was  (and  perhaps  is  now) 
cashier  of  the  First  National  Bank  of  Orange,  N.  J.  It  was  his 
custom,  when  in  need  of  currency,  to  procure  it  himself  in  New 
York,  and  carry  it  himself  to  his  bank.  For  purposes  of  security 
he  had  made  a strong  leather  satchel  with  a stout  lock.  To  this 
satchel  he  attached  a steel  chain,  which  was  so  made  as  to  fasten 
around  his  wrist. 

On  the  morning  of  July  28,  1883,  Mr.  Smith  was  returning  from 
New  York  to  Orange  with  ten  thousand  dollars  in  his  satchel. 
Afterwards  he  recollected  that  on  the  ferry-boat  three  men  kept  un- 
pleasantly near  him,  and  even  jostled  him  once  or  twice,  but  at  the 

53i 


532 


“ KEEP  YOUR  SEATS.” 

time  he  paid  no  particular  attention  to  their  behavior.  Arrived 
on  the  Hoboken  side,  Mr.  Smith  proceeded  to  the  Delaware  and 
Lackawanna  railroad  station,  purchased  his  ticket  for  Orange,  and 
immediately  took  his  seat  in  a car  of  the  waiting  train.  It  wanted 
about  five  minutes  of  starting  time. 

Scarcely  had  he'  settled  himself  comfortably  in  his  seat  than 
three  men  entered  the  car.  He  immediately  recognized  them  as 
the  men  of  the  ferry-boat,  and  instantly  it  flashed  across  his  nund 
that  they  were  following  him  for  no  good  purpose.  Still,  the  idea 
seemed  absurd  ; there  were  a number  of  other  passengers  in  the 
car,  and  Mr.  Smith  smiled  at  his  own  folly. 

But  while  these  thoughts  were  passing  through  his  mind,  one  of 
the  men  walked  rapidly  to  one  end  of  the  car  and  stood  at  the 
door  with  a drawn  pistol.  Another  of  them  remained  at  the  door 
by  which  they  had  entered,  also  displaying  a formidable  revolver. 
Then  the  startled  passengers  heard  the  short,  sharp  command  : 

“ Keep  in  your  seats.  The  first  one  to  move  is  a dead  man  ! ” 
Meanwhile,  the  third  man,  armed  with  a short  piece  of  lead  pipe, 
walked  straight  to  Mr.  Smith  and  attempted  to  snatch  the  satchel 
from  his  grasp.  Quite  undaunted,  Mr.  Smith  wasted  no  breath  in 
words,  but  settled  himself  down  to  a firm  hold  of  the  satchel. 
The  robber,  realizing  that  he  could  not  terrify  the  cashier,  began 
savagely  striking  Mr.  Smith  about  the  head  with  the  lead  pipe. 
So  thick  and  fast  came  the  murderous  blows  that  Mr.  Smith  in- 
voluntarily raised  his  hands  to  protect  himself.  The  robber  made 
another  snatch  at  the  satchel,  but  was  again  baffled  by  the  steel 
chain,  which,  as  usual,  was  tightly  secured  to  the  cashier’s  wrist. 

Meanwhile,  the  other  passengers  had  partially  recovered  from 
the  stupefaction  of  their  first  surprise,  and,  though  not  daring  to  rise 
from  their  seats,  were  flinging  up  the  windows  and  calling  loudly 
for  assistance.  Answering  cries  were  coming  from  without,  and 
the  confusion  was  brought  to  a climax  by  the  ringing  of  the  engine 
bell  for  the  train’s  departure.  And  still  the  steel  chain  held,  al- 
though the  cashier’s  wrist  was  bruised  and  bleeding. 

Not  daring  to  be  carried  off  on  the  train,  the  would-be  bandits 
relinquished  their  attempts,  and,  weapons  in  hand,  bolted  from  the 
car.  It  seems  incredible  that  three  men  could  traverse  a crowded 
station  uncaptured  or  unstopped,  but  an  unarmed  crowd  is  natur- 
ally the  most  cowardly  of  gatherings,  and  the  baffled  desperadoes 
gained  the  street,  with  the  yelling  mob  behind  them.  A light 


533 


“do  you  recognize  me?” 

baker’s  wagon  stood  outside  the  depot  and  into  this  the  three 
jumped  , but  the  horse,  terrified  at  the  unusual  noise,  became  balky 
and  refused  to  move — the  more  they  lashed  him  the  more  obsti- 
nate he  became,  till,  in  despair,  the  men  jumped  to  the  ground 
and  scattered  in  different  directions. 

It  so  happened  that  at  this  moment  Chief  Donovan  was  standing 
on  Hudson  Street,  between  Newark  and  First  Streets.  A man 
came  running  along  at  a rapid  rate,  followed  by  a crowd.  The 
Chief  promptly  collared  him,  despite  a very  vigorous  resistance. 

“ Now,  my  man,  what’s  the  trouble  ? ” asked  the  chief. 

“ O,  I got  into  a row  with  a longshoreman,  and  hit  him  on  the 
nose,”  was  the  reply. 

Swinging  the  man  around,  so  as  to  get  a view  of  his  face,  the 
Chief  recognized  him.  It  was  the  notorious  thief,  Peter  Em- 
erson. 

“ Hallo ! Is  it  you  ? ” said  the  Chief,  genially. 

“ Do  you  recognize  me  ? ” asked  “ Pete,  ” in  a disgusted  tone. 

“ Of  course,”  replied  the  Chief,  “ and  you  are  altogether  too  dis- 
tinguished a gentleman  to  be  practising  on  longshoremen’s  noses. 
You  will  honor  me  with  your  society  to  the  station-house.” 

Proceeding  stationward,  the  Chief  again  recommended  Mr.  Em- 
erson to  confide  his  trouble  to  him,  but  he  wasted  his  politeness 
on  the  desert  air,  for  all  he  could  get  out  of  “ Pete  ” was  the  surly 
growl : “ You’ll  find  out  soon  enough.” 

He  had  no  sooner  said  this  than  a butcher  wagon  came  dashing 
along  at  a tremendous  rate,  with  one  man  in  it.  He  turned  round 
the  corner  of  Second  Street,  where  he  collided  with  a tree  and  was 
thrown  out.  Quickly  regaining  his  feet,  the  man  jumped  on  to  a 
grocer’s  wagon  which  was  passing,  and  taking  the  reins  from  the 
boy  in  charge,  drove  off.  An  officer  close  by,  who  had  seen  the 
whole  transaction,  also  jumped  on  the  team  and  captured  the 
man,  who  turned  out  to  be  no  less  a personage  than  Edward  Far- 
rell. 

The  march  to  the  station-house  was  resumed,  but  before  the 
Chief  reached  there  he  saw  another  man  racing  down  Court 
Street  towards  the  Ferry.  A roundsman  started  in  pursuit,  seeing 
which  the  fleeing  man  threw  down  a pistol  which  he  still  had  in 
his  hand.  This  man  was  soon  captured,  and  proved  to  be  the 
John  Nugent  alluded  to  at  the  beginning  of  this  story.  He  had 
rapidly  been  promoted  to  the  aristocracy  of  crime. 


534 


THE  TRIO  TRIED. 


The  assault  upon  the  cashier  took  place  at  10.35  a.  m.,  and  in 
less  than  six  minutes  all  three  of  the  assailants  were  lodged  in 
the  station.  Such  was  the  inglorious  ending  of  this  attempt  to 
transplant  the  Western  crime  of  train  robbery  to  a crowded  centre 
of  population.  To  succeed,  the  robber  must  have  at  hand  the  vast 
loneliness  of  the  prairie  for  his  asylum. 

Nugent  and  Farrell  pleaded  guilty,  and  were  each  sentenced  to 
ten  years'  imprisonment,  which  they  are  now  undergoing.  Emer- 
son stood  trial  and  a great  sum  of  money  was  spent  in  his  defence, 
but  in  vain.  He  was  convicted,  and  received  the  same  punish- 
ment as  his  comrades. 

Mr.  Smith  received  no  lasting  injuries  from  the  blows  dealt  him, 
but  never  again  travelled  without  an  escort  when  carrying  money. 

It  was  in  1877-8  that  the  “Charlton  Street”  gang  of  river 
pirates,  under  the  leadership  of  the  notorious  Mike  Shannon,  was 
at  the  very  zenith  of  its  prosperity.  But  it  was  at  this  period 
also  that  it  received  its  death-blow.  For  many  years  the  members 
of  this  ruffianly  horde  had  preyed  upon  the  shipping  in  both  the 
North  and  East  rivers,  along  the  Staten  Island,  Brooklyn,  and 
New  Jersey  shores,  and  Hoboken  as  well.  They  were  not  very 
particular  as  to  the  plunder  which  they  picked  up,  and  less  so  as 
to  the  means  adopted  to  secure  it.  “ Dead  men  tell  no  tales  ” 
was  their  motto,  and  many  a poor  seafaring  wanderer  has  been 
foully  murdered  by  them,  within  sight  of  the  home  from  which  he 
had  been  so  long  absent,  for  daring  to  defend  his  property. 

Mike  Shannon  was  the  leader  and  director  of  this  gang.  He 
was  a resident  of  the  Eighth  Ward,  and  his  political  influence  there 
was  very  great,  a fact  of  no  small  importance  whenever  any  of  his 
associates  were  “ in  trouble.”  One  day,  however,  in  the  latter  part 
of  1878,  I received  a visit  from  Chief  of  Police  Donovan,  of  Hobo- 
ken. During  the  previous  night,  which  had  been  a particularly 
wet,  dark  and  stormy  one,  a large  quantity  of  valuable  silks  had 
been  stolen,  so  he  informed  me,  from  the  Bremen  Dock,  Hoboken, 
the  property  of  the  North  German  Lloyd  Steamship  Co.  Could 
I help  him  in  discovering  the  thieves,  as  he  had  a suspicion  they 
had  come  from  my  side  of  the  river  ? Captain  Schultz  was  at 
that  time  in  command  of  the  New  York  Harbor  Police,  and  so 
I sent  for  him.  The  details  of  the  robbery  were  again  gone  over 
in  a brief  but  comprehensive  manner  by  Chief  Donovan. 


CAPTAIN  SCHULTZ  S CLEW. 


535 


“A  shoe-string  against  a row  of  apple-trees  that  I know  who  was 
in  that  job,”  instantly  exclaimed  Captain  Schultz. 

“ Who  was  it  ? How  do  you  know?  ” exclaimed  the  Chief  and 
myself  in  the  same  breath. 

“ One  question  at  a time,  gentlemen,  if  you  please,”  laughingly 
remarked  the  burly  captain.  “ Who  was  it  ? Why  it  was  Mike  Shan- 
non’s gang.  How  do  I know  ? Well,  if  you’ll  just  listen  a while 
I’ll  tell  you,  and  you  see  if  I ain’t  somewhere  near  right.  I’ve  had 
my  men  watching  those  fellows  for  a good  long  time,  and  know  a 
lot  about  them,  but  not  enough  to  make  sure  of  a conviction.  Now 
I think  I’ve  got  them  ‘ dead  to  rights.’  Last  night,  you  know,  was 
a pretty  rough  night,  as  rough  a one  as  I want  to  be  out  in.  The 
rain  came  down  in  regular  sheets  and  the  wind  blew  a hurricane, 
while  it  was  so  dark  you  couldn’t  see  half  a boat’s  length  in  front 
of  you.  As  I said  before,  I had  been  watching  Shannon  and  his 
gang  for  some  time,  and  last  night,  as  luck  would  have  it,  I had 
one  of  my  men  stationed  on  Charlton  Street.  That’s  where  Shan- 
non and  his  lot  hang  out.  At  about  ten  o^clock,  when  the  storm 
was  about  at  its  worst,  a couple  of  rough  fellows,  named  Scanlon 
and  Cassidy,  well  known  to  be  hand-in-hand  with  Shannon,  were 
seen  by  my  men  to  go  down  the  street  towards  the  water.  They 
were  muffled  up  round  their  necks,  and  they  had  on  wide-brimmed 
tarpaulin  hats,  well  slouched  down  over  their  faces,  so  as  to  protect 
them  from  the  pelting  rain,  which  was  beating  right  against  them. 
They  walked  quickly  down  to  the  pier,  where  they  were  joined  by 
another,  similarly  muffled  up.  My  man  crept  up  pretty  near  them 
and  could  just  distinguish  their  forms  as  they  got  into  a boat  and 
then  rowed  off  in  the  darkness,  headed  for  the  Jersey  shore.  Now 
there’s  no  other  gang  working  round  here  now,  and  if  we  can  get 
hold  of  those  fellows  I named  we  shall  learn  something  more,  you 
bet  ! It’s  lucky  I stationed  that  man  on  Charlton  Street.”  Saying 
which  the  Captain  leaned  back  in  his  chair  with  a look  on  his  face 
as  if  he  already  had  the  gang  under  lock  and  key. 

It  certainly  did  look  as  if  we  had  a clew  to  the  robbers,  and  so 
I ordered  Captain  Schultz  to  pursue  his  investigations  in  the  direc- 
tion indicated,  and  to  give  Chief  Donovan  all  the  assistance  in  his 
power.  Within  three  or  four  weeks,  five  of  the  gang  were  in  cus- 
tody, namely,  Shea,  Grady,  Scanlon,  Cassidy,  and  Shevlin.  Unfort- 
unately, Shannon,  the  ringleader,  came  to  know  we  were  in  search 
of  him,  and  was  lost  sight  of  for  some  months.  But  more  of  him 


536 


A WATERY  WAY. 


hereafter.  There  was  quite  a chase  after  Grady  and  Scanlon,  who 
were  captured  in  Buffalo.  At  first  none  of  the  gang  would  say  a 
word,  but  when  they  found  themselves  deserted  by  Shannon,  and 
that  he  did  not  come  to  aid  them  with  his  political  influence,  as  in 
times  past,  they  “ peached.” 

From  them  it  was  learned  that  there  were  nine  of  the  gang  im- 
plicated in  the  robbery.  They  had  three  boats,  too ; one  starting 
from  the  foot  of  Charlton  Street,  and  the  other  two  from  Houston 
Street  pier,  with  three  men  in  each  boat.  No  lights  were  carried, 
save  dark  lanterns,  and  these  were  only  “ flashed  ” now  and  then 
for  a second  or  so  at  a time,  in  order  to  get  the  proper  bearings. 
The  job  had  been  planned  several  days  previously,  and  they  knew 
just  where  the  cases  of  silks  were  located  in  the  warehouse. 
Through  the  inky  blackness  of  the  night,  and  pulling  right  in  the 
very  teeth  of  the  heavy  gusts  which  blew  across  the  river,  the  three 
boats  slowly  made  their  way  to  the  Bremen  Dock,  which  is  situ- 
ated a little  to  the  northward  of  the  Hoboken  Ferry.  Watchmen 
patrolled  the  wharf  and  warehouses  throughout  the  night,  “ peg- 
ging” their  clocks  at  stated  hours.  In  the  interval,  the  thieves 
succeeded  in  effecting  an  entrance  into  the  warehouse.  Holes 
were  bored  in  the  wooden  partition  with  augers,  and  then  with 
the  aid  of  a saw  an  aperture,  measuring  3x6  feet,  was  soon  cut. 
Before  this  was  accomplished,  however,  they  were  interrupted  sev- 
eral times  by  the  approach  of  the  watchman,  and  then  they  would 
suspend  operations,  crouching  in  the  bottom  of  their  boats,  and  in 
the  darkness  they  were  not  observed.  When  he  retraced  his  steps, 
operations  on  the  boarding  were  resumed  until  completed.  Quick- 
ly and  noiselessly,  two  cases  of  silk  were  transferred  from  the  ware- 
house to  the  boat.  A slight  noise  alarmed  the  watchmen,  who 
came  to  the  edge  of  the  wharf  and  peered  over.  This  alarmed 
them  and  they  pulled  away  out  into  the  stream,  with  one  boat  short 
of  cargo.  What  they  had  secured,  however,  was  safely  landed  at 
the  foot  of  Houston  Street,  and  concealed  under  the  wharf  there, 
until  a favorable  opportunity  occurred  for  its  removal  to  a more  se- 
cure hiding-place.  But  that  opportunity  never  came.  The  silk 
was  found  there  by  Chief  Donovan  and  Captain  Schultz,  and  was 
finally  returned  to  the  rightful  owners.  The  five  thieves  mentioned 
were  tried  and  convicted,  and  were  sentenced  to  ten  years’  imprison- 
ment each  in  Trenton  State  prison. 

As  to  Shannon,  he  was  arrested  four  or  five  months  after  the 


A TALE  WITH  A SEQUEL. 


537 


robbery,  in  Baltimore,  when  he  had  just  landed  from  England. 
He  told  us  he  had  gone  from  New  York  to  Canada  and  from  there 
sailed  for  Queenstown,  Ireland,  where  he  ' remained  some  four 
months.  He  was  brought  on  here,  and  put  upon  his  trial,  but  not- 
withstanding the  fact  that  two  of  his  accomplices  were  brought 
from  prison  and  testified  against  him,  the  jury  failed  to  agree  and 
he  was  shortly  afterward  discharged  from  custody.  He  was  never 
tried  again,  and  is  now,  so  I am  informed,  leading  an  honest,  hard 
working  life. 

Nearly  all  will  recollect  the  sensation  which  was  produced  when 
the  almost  successful  attempt  was  made  to  rob  the  Jersey  City 
National  Bank,  some  ten  or  twelve  years  ago ; but  there  is  a sequel 
to  it  which  has  never  before  been  made  public,  and  which  was  con- 
fided to  me  by  my  friend,  Chief  Donovan,  of  Hoboken.  There 
were  four  of  the  most  notorious  bank  burglars  that  this  country  has 
ever  produced  concerned  in  the  affair — Frank  Denning  (alias 
“ Dago  Frank  ”),  “ Bill  ” Proctor,  Moses  Vogel  and  “ Dave  ” Cum- 
mings. These  four  hired  a room  in  a building  adjoining  the  bank, 
and  had  succeeded  in  digging  their  way  to  within  a few  feet  of  the 
vault,  when  their  strange  behavior  aroused  the  suspicions  of  their 
landlady,  who  informed  the  police  that  she  thought  her  lodgers 
were  up  to  some  roguery.  The  house  was  raided  by  the  police, 
the  result  being  the  capture  of  Denning,  Proctor  and  Vogel. 
Cummings,  who  was  attending  to  the  “ outside,”  escaped,  and  has 
since  made  his  name  infamous  in  Europe.  The  three  prisoners 
were  soon  lodged  in  the  Hudson  County  Jail  to  await  trial,  and  for 
a time  public  interest  was  diverted  from  them. 

And  now  comes  the  sequel,  or,  rather,  a little  bit  of  by-play. 

Late  one  night,  about  a week  after  the  arrest  of  the  men 
in  question,  a respectably  dressed  middle-aged  man  was  found  by 
a policeman  lying  drunk  in  the  gutter  on  Court  Street,  Hoboken. 
To  all  appearances  he  was  unable  to  walk,  and  was  accordingly 
carried  to  the  station-house  and  locked  in  a cell.  He  gave  his 
name  as  Wm.  Alexander.  The  next  morning,  in  accordance  with 
an  invariable  custom,  Chief  Donovan  walked  along  the  cell  corri- 
dor for  the  purpose  of  taking  a look  at  those  who  had  been 
brought  in  during  the  night.  Alexander  was  a very  respectable 
looking  fellow,  and  in  answer  to  the  Chief’s  inquiries  said  he  had 
been  on  a spree  the  night  previous  and  had  taken  more  than  was 
good  for  him.  The  man’s  appearance  was  in  his  favor ; he  did 


538 


ALL  THE  WORLD’S  A STAGE.” 


not  look  like  an  “ habitual,”  and  so,  when  arraigned  in  court,  the 
Chief  spoke  a good  word  for  him  to  the  judge,  and  he  was  dis- 
charged with  a caution.  But  that  very  same  night  “ Mr.  Alexan— - 
der  ” was  again  found  lying  in  almost  the  identical  spot,  and,  as  be- 
fore, in  a drunken  condition.  This  time,  however,  a pane  of  glass 
had  been  broken  in  the  window  of  a cigar  store  close  to  where 
he  was  lying,  and  his  hat  was  inside.  He  was  again  arrested,  and 
was  sentenced  to  thirty  days'  imprisonment  in  the  county  jail. 
Out  of  consideration  for  his  apparent  respectability,  however,  he 
was  not  sent  to  the  jail,  but  was  kept  in  Hoboken  along  with  the 
“ ten-day  ” men.  What  subsequently  transpired  will  show  how  fort- 
unate a circumstance  this  was. 

“Alexander  ” had  served  about  half  of  his  term,  when  one  after- 
noon a stylish  brougham  was  driven  up  to  the  door  of  police 
headquarters  in  Hoboken,  and  a fashionably  attired  man  alighted. 
His  clothes  were  of  the  latest  style  and  cut,  while  a magnificent 
diamond  pin  in  his  tie  almost  dazzled  Chief  Donovan,  who  hap- 
pened to  be  “at  the  desk,”  and  to  whom  he  addressed  himself. 

Did  the  Chief  know  anything  about  a man  named  Alexander, 
who  had  been  arrested  for  drunkenness. 

The  Chief  replied  that  he  did,  adding  that  he  had  been  “ sent 
up  ” for  thirty  days. 

Was  there  no  way  of  getting  him  out  ? asked  the  gentlemanly 
stranger.  He  would  be  willing  to  pay  a hundred  dollars  rather  than 
have  him  remain  in  prison  any  longer.  The  fact  of  it  was  his  sis- 
ter was  to  have  been  married  to  “ Alexander,”  and  his  non-appear- 
ance on  the  day  set  apart  for  that  interesting  ceremony  had  almost 
rendered  the  poor  girl  frantic.  Could  not  something  be  done 
to  secure  the  imprisoned  man’s  liberty?  No  monetary  consider- 
ations should  stand  in  the  way.  And  so  the  stranger  urged  and 
pleaded,  but  with  no  avail.  There  was  no  flaw  in  the  commitment, 
and  nothing  could  be  done.  “ Alexander,”  it  was  decided,  must 
serve  his  full  term. 

A day  or  two  after  this  scene,  a young  lad,  a resident  of  Hobo- 
ken, was  arrested  and  sent  to  the  county  jail  for  picking  pockets. 
Chief  Donovan  knew  him  and  his  aged  mother  well,  and  through 
his  influence  the  old  lady  was  allowed  to  visit  her  boy  in  the  jail 
rather  more  frequently  than  the  rules  permitted.  One  day  she 
conveyed  a message  to  the  Chief  that  her  son  wished  particularly 
to  see  him,  as  he  had  some  valuable  information  to  communicate. 


ALL  BUT. 


539 


The  Chief  accordingly  called  at  the  jail,  and  there  obtained  from 
the  boy  a clew  which  led  to  the  frustration  of  one  of  the  most  dar- 
ing attempts  at  escape  which  has  ever  been  heard  of.  The  lad 
told  the  Chief  that  some  time  previously  he  had  been  approached 
by  the  three  “ bankies,”  as  he  called  them,  Denning,  Proctor  and 
Vogel,  who  induced  him  to  allow  his  mother  to  go  to  some  friends 
of  theirs  in  New  York  and  get  some  pots  of  jam,  etc.,  for  them. 
These  “pots  of  jam,  ” the  lad  said,  were  so  numerous  that  he 
thought  there  was  something  wrong.  And,  indeed,  it  looked  very 
much  that  way.  The  next  jam  pot,  therefore,  that  the  old  lady 
brought,  was  opened  and  examined,  and  found  to  contain,  not 
jam,  but  dynamite  cartridges,  fuse,  etc.  The  cells  of  the  three 
“ bankies  ” were  at  once  thoroughly  examined,  and  the  astounding 
discovery  was  made  by  the  jail  officials  that  the  men  had  already 
dug  a tunnel  which  extended  to  the  outer  wall  of  the  jail.  The 
wall,  it  was  intended,  should  be  blown  up  with  the  dynamite,  but 
the  little  pickpocket’s  forethought  brought  the  conspiracy  to  light. 
In  conversation  with  one  of  the  bank  burglars,  Chief  Donovan 
learned  that  the  man  “Alexander,”  who  was  twice  arrested  for 
drunkenness,  was  no  less  than  another  of  the  gang,  the  notorious 
Scott,  who  hoped  to  get  committed  to  the  jail,  where  he  could 
arrange  the  details  of  the  plot  for  their  release.  The  gorgeous 
young  man  to  whose  sister  he  was  to  have  been  married  was  no 
less  a personage  than  Dunlap,  also  a well-known  bank  burglar. 
Both  were  subsequently  engaged  in  the  Northampton  Bank  burg- 
lary, and  are  now  “ doing  time  ” in  Massachusetts  State  Prison. 

It  was  only  a short  time  ago  that  I noticed  in  the  daily  papers 
an  account  of  a murder  and  suicide  in  Washington,  D.  C.,  in  which 
“Johnny”  Rowe,  as  he  was  called,  shot  his  mistress  with  a revol- 
ver, and  then  put  an  end  to  his  own  miserable  existence  with  a 
bullet  from  the  same  weapon.  I knew  Rowe  well,  and  was  pretty 
well  posted  concerning  some  of  the  many  “ jobs  ” in  which  he  was 
engaged.  In  personal  appearance  he  was  a perfect  gentleman  : 
his  clothes  were  made  by  a fashionable  tailor ; his  linen  of  spot- 
less purity,  his  boots  brilliantly  polished,  and  his  face  always  clean 
shaved.  His  favorite  stand  during  the  day,  or  when  not  engaged 
in  the  pursuit  of  “ business,”  was  on  Broadway,  at  the  corner  of 
Twenty-eighth  Street.  This  was  in  the  days  when  the  Brower 
House,  near  by,  was  generally  considered  by  the  “ fraternity  ” as 
their  headquarters.  In  that  then  gorgeous  temple  of  chance, 


54°  an  eye  on  the  plumber. 

“Johnny  ” was  one  of  the  leading  spirits.  He  was  a gambler  of 
the  first  water,  and,  like  all  of  that  ilk,  did  not  hesitate,  when  “ pig- 
eons” were  scarce  and  legitimate  gambling  was  dull,  to  descend 
further  in  the  scale  of  crime  and  try  his  hand  at  common,  every- 
day swindling.  I couldn’t  begin  to  enumerate  one-half  the  “ hells  ” 
with  which  Johnny  was  connected  from  time  to  time,  in  one  way  or 
another.  Two  years  ago,  however,  when  we  made  a big  raid  on 
all  the  gambling  establishments  up  town,  he  “ ran  the  game  ” at  a 
place  on  Sixth  Avenue,  between  Thirty-first  and  Thirty-second 
streets.  He  was  a clever  conversationalist,  cool,  plausible  and  cal- 
culating, and  the  possession  of  these  qualities  tended  in  a great  de- 
gree to  his  almost  invariable  success  in  the  various  operations  in 
which  he  engaged.  When  preparing  for  a raid  upon  any  one’s 
pocket-book,  he  was  always  very  careful  to  make  himself  thoroughly 
acquainted  with  his  intended  victim’s  “soft  spot”  or  hobby,  and 
then  he  would  work  it  for  all  it  was  worth.  He  “ spotted  ” a 
Brooklyn  plumber  (of  course  he  was  a wealthy  man),  and  ascer- 
tained that  his  hobby  consisted  in  making  bets  on  almost  every 
conceivable  matter  or  occasion.  But  the  plumber  was  also  a poli- 
tician ; he  had  “ travelled  with  the  boys  ” for  a number  of  years, 
and  could  not  be  plucked  by  any  common,  every-day  trick.  He 
knew  all  the  ropes,  as  they  say,  and  Rowe  saw  it  would  be  no  easy 
job  to  pull  the  wool  over  his  eyes.  So  he  hired  a couple  of  nicely 
furnished  rooms,  with  sliding  doors  between  them,  located  down 
town,  and  then  sent  a polite  note  to  the  Brooklyn  plumber,  asking 
him  to  call  upon  a certain  day  and  give  an  estimate  on  a big  job 
in  his  line.  Always  having  an  eye  to  business  as  well  as  to  poli. 
tics,  the  plumber  gladly  accepted  the  invitation  and  called  upon 
the  day  indicated.  Rowe  ushered  him  into  one  of  the  rooms,  the 
sliding  doors  being  closed,  and  at  once  began  to  explain  that  he 
wanted  new  wash-stands,  closets,  pipes,  etc.,  put  in  of  a gorgeous 
and  costly  nature.  The  plumber,  of  course,  was  deeply  interested 
in  the  long  list  of  things  which  would  be  required  ; but  his  medita- 
tions upon  the  vision  of  future  profits  were  suddenly  broken  in 
upon  by  a familiar  sound,  faint  but  distinct,  which  came  from  the 
other  side  of  the  sliding  doors.  It  was  the  rattling  of  “ chips,” 
and  voices  could  be  heard  making  bets.  The  effect  upon  the 
plumber  was  like  that  of  the  scent  of  powder  on  an  old  war-horse. 
He  raised  his  head,  almost  involuntarily,  and  asked  : 

“ What’s  that  ? ” 


THE  PLUMBER  A PLUMB.  54I 

“Oh!  ” replied  “Johnny,”  lifting  his  forefinger  with  a mysteri- 
ous and  warning  air  ; “ keep  quiet.  Don’t  say  a word.” 

“But  there’s  a ‘game  ’ going  on  there,”  said  the  plumber,  point- 
ing in  the  direction  from  whence  the  sounds  came.  “ Who’s  in 
there  ? What’s  going  on  ? ” 

“ Hush  ! ” again  said  johnny,  in  a hoarse  whisper,  and  with  a 
well-assumed  look  of  terror  on  his  face.  “Don’t  give  it  away, 
will  you  ? The  fact  is  we’ve  just  started  a little  club  of  our  own. 
You  see  there’s  any  number  of  respectable  men  about  this  neigh- 
borhood who  are  fond  of  a game  of  cards  on  the  quiet,  and  so  we 
fitted  up  this  place  especially  for  ’em.  There’s  one  or  two  in 
there  now.” 

The  natural  curiosity  of  the  plumber  was  aroused,  and  he  asked 
Rowe  if  he  had  any  objections  to  his  taking  a look  at  the  game. 
“Johnny,”  at  first,  wouldn’t  hear  of  such  a thing,  the  club  was  a 
very  select  one,  and  those  in  the  next  room  wouldn’t  like  such  an 
intrusion  upon  their  privacy.  It  might  be  the  means,  too,  of  get- 
ting him  into  trouble. 

“ Well,  you  know  I’m  all  riglit,”  replied  the  plumber.  “Just 
let  me  have  a look,  won’t  you  ? ” 

And  still  Johnny  made  a show  of  resistance,  but  finally  he  ac- 
ceded to  the  plumber’s  urgent  entreaties,  and  pulling  back  the 
sliding  doors  introduced  him  to  the  three  or  four  gentlemen 
in  the  room,  who,  it  may  be  remarked,  were  “Johnny’s  ” confed- 
erates, located  there  “ for  this  occasion  only.” 

The  plumber  watched  the  play  for  some  minutes  without  saying 
a word.  At  length  he  could  not  resist  the  fascination,  and  began 
to  wager  on  the  turn  of  the  cards. 

The  inevitable  result  followed.  Before  the  plumber  “ let  up  ” he 
had  been  absolutely  swindled  out  of  no  less  than  sixteen  hundred 
dollars.  Of  course  he  was  far  from  being  pleased  at  losing  such  a 
sum  of  money  ; but  just  imagine  his  state  of  mind  when,  an  hour 
or  two  later,  upon  informing  a friend  of  his  adventure,  he  learned 
that  the  “ club  house  ” proprietor  was  no  less  a personage  than  the 
notorious  “Johnny”  Rowe.  To  say  that  he  was  mad  is  but  a 
faint  way  of  expressing  the  rage  which  burned  within  the  plumber’s 
breast.  He  vowed  to  get  square,  and  so,  the  very  next  day,  when  a 
gentlemanly  looking  young  fellow  called  on  him  with  the  infor- 
mation that  his  “brother”  wanted  to  see  him  at  the  club,  the 
plumber  was  very  polite,  as  if  nothing  had  occurred. 


542 


johnny’s  downfall. 


“ Very  sorry,”  said  he  , “ but  I’m  very  busy  just  now.  Tell  Mr. 
Rowe  to  come  over  here  to  my  place.  I want  to  see  him  very 
much.  ” 

The  young  fellow  left,  and  as  soon  as  he  had  gone  the  plumber, 
with  a broad  anticipatory  grin  on  his  countenance,  procured  a 
formidable  looking  butcher  knife,  and  placing  the  blade  in  the 
stove,  heated  it  red-hot. 

He  was  doomed  to  be  disappointed,  however.  The  messenger 
returned  with  the  information  that  Mr.  Rowe  was  also  very  busy, 
much  to  his  regret.  This  was  too  much,  and  so,  seizing  the  knife, 
the  plumber  went  for  “Johnny’s”  brother  without  any  prelimina- 
ries, pricking  him  in  a dozen  or  more  tender  spots  before  he  could 
make  his  escape. 

“Johnny”  saw  that  the  game  was  up,  and  prepared  to  shift  his 
quarters,  but  before  he  could  get  clear  away,  the  plumber,  accom- 
panied by  some  Brooklyn  boys,  appeared  on  the  scene,  and  made 
him  disgorge  a portion,  at  least,  of  the  plunder. 

“ Johnny  ” was  not  even  true  to  those  of  his  own  fraternity,  and 
never  missed  a chance  of  exercising  his  peculiar  talents  in  the  field 
of  roguery.  A well-known  man  about  town,  named  “ Wine  Harry,” 
once  backed  Rowe  in  going  into  business  with  McLane,  the  bet- 
ting man.  Some  money  Was  needed,  and  Rowe  was  commissioned 
to  raise  $5000  on  a mortgage  of  property  belonging  to  “ Harry.” 
He  did  so,  but  that  was  the  last  seen  or  heard  of  him  for  some 
time.  At  length  it  leaked  out  that  he  was  in  Washington,  in  com- 
pany with  a young  woman  who  had  accompanied  him  from  New 
York.  He  had  set  her  up  in  “ business,”  but  Rowe  took  to  drink, 
and  at  length  she  left  him,  and  went  to  live  with  a fast  young  fel- 
low of  the  Capitol.  This  was  the  cause  which  led  to  the  double 
tragedy  alluded  to  at  the  commencement  of  this  narrative. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 


REMARKABLE  CRIMES  IN  BROOKLYN. — SUPT.  CAMPBELL  AS  A DETEC- 
TIVE.— THE  HEAD  THAT  WAS  FOUND  IN  A LUMBER  YARD. — A 

HORRIBLE  SMELL. THE  DETECTIVES’  DISCOVERY. WHAT  WAS 

BOILING  IN  THE  POT. AN  INHUMAN  DEED. THE  GOODRICH 

MURDER. LOOKING  FOR  KATE  STODDARD. A FEMALE  DETEC- 

TIVE AND  HER  PROVIDENTIAL  MEETING  WITH  THE  MURDERESS. 
— ONLY  A LOCKET. — CRUMBS  OF  CONGEALED  BLOOD. — SEARCH- 
ING EVERY  HOUSE  IN  BROOKLYN. — SUCCESS  AT  LAST. 

The  city  of  Brooklyn  has  been  the  scene  of  some  very  remarka- 
ble crimes ; and  the  manner  in  which  they  were  unearthed,  and 
the  success  which  attended  the  efforts  to  bring  the  criminals  to 
justice,  have  combined  to  make  the  name  of  Superintendent  Camp- 
bell famous  as  one  of  the  most  skilful  detectives  in  the  country. 
In  view  of  the  fact,  therefore,  that  Brooklyn,  since  the  completion 
of  the  East  River  Bridge,  has  been  brought  into  still  closer  connec- 
tion with  New  York,  I cannot  do  better,  perhaps,  than  give  one 
or  two  cases  as  examples  of  Supt.  Campbell’s  skill  as  a director  of 
criminal  investigation. 

Early  on  the  morning  of  January  27,  1876,  some  men  on 
their  way  to  work,  found  the  ghastly  head  of  a man  lying  in  a lum- 
ber yard  at  Greenpoint,  not  far  from  the  ferry.  A casual  exami- 
nation showed  that  it  had  been  severed  from  the  body  with  some 
not  very  sharp  instrument,  and  the  edges  of  the  flesh  of  the  neck 
where  it  had  been  cut  were  irregular  and  jagged.  It  was  partially 
wrapped  in  a half  sheet  of  a German  newspaper,  and  that  was  the 
only  clew.  The  police  were  notified — in  fact,  the  head  was  taken 
to  Chief  Campbell’s  office,  and  was  there  subjected  to  the  closest 
scrutiny  by  medical  men  and  others  ; but  for  some  time  the  mys- 
tery was  as  far  from  elucidation  as  ever.  During  the  afternoon 
following  the  discovery,  however,  the  head  was  viewed  by  a num- 
ber of  individuals,  one  or  two  of  whom  said  it  looked  very  much  like 
that  of  a man  named  William  W.  Simmons,  who  had  been  em- 

543 


544 


IDENTIFIED. 


ployed  for  some  time  in  Williamsburgh  at  one  of  the  sugar  refin- 
eries.  Search  was  accordingly  made  for  Simmons,  detectives  be- 
ing despatched  in  every  direction  by  Mr.  Campbell  with  instruc- 
tions to  report  to  him  hourly  by  telegraph.  While  they  were  ab- 
sent, a man  who  gave  his  name  as  Andrew  Fuchs  called  upon 


PATRICK  CAMPBELL. 

( Superintendent  of  the  Brooklyn  Police.  ) 


Captain  Woglom,  of  the  Fifth  Precinct.  He  had  heard  it  rumor- 
ed, he  said,  that  the  head  which  was  found  was  that  of  Simmons, 
and  he  should  like  to  see  it,  as  he  knew  him  well.  It  was  shown 
him,  and  he  positively  identified  it.  Fuchs  said  he  had  been  a 
t( helper”  to  Simmons  for  some  years,  and  told  about  his  partial- 


BLOODY  CLOTHING. 


545 


ity  for  the  society  of  the  fair  sex,  how  he  would  boast  of  his 
conquests  in  that  direction,  and  that  he  was  particularly  fond  of  a 
certain  woman  of  Greenpoint,  who  resided  not  far  from  the  yard 
where  his  head  was  found.  Fuchs  then  left  the  office  after 
having  given  his  address.  Officers  were  then  despatched  to  hunt 
up  the  woman  alluded  to  by  Fuchs,  but  she  could  not  be  found. 
In  the  course  of  their  investigations,  however,  they  learned  that  a 
short  time  before  the  finding  of  Simmons’  head  a man  had  been 
seen  in  the  neighborhood  carrying  a market  basket,  the  top  of 
which  was  covered  with  a sheet  of  paper.  This  apparently  trivial 
incident  was  reported  to  the  Captain,  who  asked  for  a description 
of  the  man.  It  was  given  him,  upon  which  he  immediately 
exclaimed  : 

“ Why  that’s  very  much  like  Fuchs,  his  helper,  who  has  only  just 
gone  out.  Follow  him  and  tell  him  I want  him.  Here’s  his  ad- 
dress.” 

The  officers  departed  on  their  errand,  but  found  that  the  man 
they  were  in  search  of  had  gone  directly  home,  and  thither  they 
followed  him.  As  they  entered  the  house  a peculiar  and  unusual 
smell  was  perceived,  but  they  thought  nothing  of  it  at  the  time,  al- 
though they  subsequently  remembered  it  with  startling  vividness. 
Fuchs  was  seated  at  the  table  eating  his  dinner,  knife  and  fork  in 
hand — the  former  being  an  immense  and  formidable  looking  arti- 
cle. 

“You  are  wanted  down  at  the  station-house,”  remarked  one  of 
the  officers. 

Fuchs  gave  a slight  start,  and  came  to  a full  stop  with  his  eating, 
staring  fixedly  at  the  detective,  who  repeated  w'hat  he  had  pre- 
viously said. 

With  his  eyes  still  fastened  on  the  speaker,  Fuchs  deliberately, 
and  in  an  apparently  absent-minded  manner,  drew  the  blade  of  the 
knife  across  the  ball  of  his  left  thumb,  and  then  wiped  his  bloody 
hand  on  his  trousers. 

When  taken  before  the  Captain,  that  gentleman  subjected  him 
to  a rigid  verbal  examination. 

“ What’s  that  blood  on  your  pants  there,”  asked  the  Captain, 
pointing  at  the  crimson  stain. 

“ That  ? ” was  Fuchs’  reply,  “ oh,  I just  happened  to  cut  my 
hand  with  my  knife.,  as  I was  coming  away,  ” and  he  turned  to- 


546 


A HORRIBLE  SMELL. 


wards  the  officers  who  had  arrested  him  with  an  inquiring  look  as 
if  asking  for  their  confirmation  of  his  statement. 

The  Captain,  however,  motioned  them  to  remain  silent. 

“ But  that’s  fresh  blood,”  remarked  Capt.  Woglom.  “I  mean 
this  dry  spot.  What’s  that  ? ” 

Fuchs  mumbled  out  some  half  inaudible  answer,  to  the  effect 
that  he  didn’t  know  ; but  his  demeanor  was  anything  but  that  of 
an  innocent  man,  and  he  was  fast  becoming  nervous.  He  was 
searched,  and  the  very  first  article  almost  which  the  officer 
pulled  out  of  his  pocket  was  a watch. 

“Is  that  yours?” 

No  answer. 

The  landlady  with  whom  Simmons  boarded  in  Williamsburgh 
was  sent  for.  On  her  arrival  she  was  shown  the  watch  and  at 
once  identified  it  as  the  property  of  the  murdered  man. 

There  could  be  very  little  doubt  but  that  Fuchs  was  his  mur- 
derer, or,  at  least,  was  connected  in  some  way  with  the  tragedy. 
But  further  evidence  against  him  was  necessary  for  the  ends  of 
justice. 

The  detectives  were  again  despatched  to  Fuchs’  house,  with 
instructions  to  make  a thorough  search  of  the  premises.  Upon 
opening  the  door  their  nostrils  were  once  more  assailed  by  the  same 
peculiar  and  penetrating  odor  with  which  they  had  been  saluted 
on  the  occasion  of  their  first  visit.  Every  minute  it  grew  more 
powerful  and  nauseating.  At  length  one  of  them  raised  the  lid 
of  an  iron  pot  which  was  standing  on  the  stove,  and  the  mystery 
was  solved. 

Horrible  and  almost  incredible  as  the  statement  may  seem, 
there,  boiling  in  the  pot,  was  the  trunk  of  Simmons’  body  ! Hard- 
ened and  inured  to  all  sorts  of  sights  as  the  detectives  were,  this 
was  too  much  for  even  their  iron  nerves.  How  any  man  could 
have  sat  coolly  eating  his  dinner  as  Fuchs  did,  with  that  ghastly 
human  broth  stewing  on  the  stove  within  reach  of  his  arm,  is 
something  which  passes  comprehension. 

His  wife  and  child,  who  were  in  another  room,  were  then  ar- 
rested and  taken  to  headquarters. 

When  the  detectives  arrived  and  communicated  their  discovery 
to  their  horrified  listeners,  Fuchs,  who  was  present,  admitted 
everything.  A night  or  two  previously,  he  said,  Simmons  came 
to  his  house,  and  they  partook  of  considerable  liquor  together, 


HACKED  TO  PIECES. 


547 


Finally,  Simmons  despatched  him  to  a neighboring  saloon  for  a 
further  supply  of  whiskey.  Having  procured  it,  he  was  about  to 
re-enter  the  house,  when  a suspicion  as  to  his  wife’s  fidelity  en- 
tered his  mind.  He  peered  through  the  window,  and,  as  he  de- 
clared, saw  her  and  Simmons  in  a position  which  left  him  no  al- 
ternative but  to  come  to  the  conclusion  that  they  had  been  in- 
fringing one  of  the  Ten  Commandments.  Almost  frenzied  by 
the  sight,  he  caught  up  an  axe  which  was  lying  near  the  stove  and 
struck  Simmons  on  the  back  of  the  neck  with  it,  felling  him  to 
ihe  floor.  He  then  got  a large  carving-knife — the  one  with 
which  he  was  eating  his  dinner  when  the  detectives  visited  him — 
and  completely  severed  the  head  from  the  body.  He  next  cut 
the  legs  off  at  the  knee-joint,  then  the  thighs,  and  finally  the 
arms.  The  head  he  threw  into  the  lumber-yard  where  it  was 
found  ; while  the  other  members  he  hid  at  various  points  along 
the  banks  of  Newtown  Creek.  The  trunk  of  the  body,  however, 
was  too  bulky  to  be  disposed  of  in  a like  manner,  so  he  con- 
ceived the  idea  of  boiling  it ! 

Mrs.  Fuchs,  while  admitting  that  her  husband  had  murdered 
Simmons,  gave  a far  different  version  of  the  circumstances  lead- 
ing up  to  it.  Her  story  was  that  she,  together  with  her  child, 
retired  to  their  room  some  time  during  the  evening,  leaving  Sim- 
mons and  her  husband  sitting  in  the  kitchen  drinking.  At  about 
ten  o’clock  she  heard  her  husband  leave  the  house  with  a bottle 
in  his  hand.  In  a short  while  he  returned,  to  find  Simmons 
lying  upon  the  sofa  half  stupefied  with  liquor.  Going  up  and 
bending  over  him,  her  husband  stood  gazing  for  some  time  and 
muttering  to  himself.  Suddenly  snatching  up  the  axe,  he  knocked 
Simmons  off  on  to  the  floor,  and  then  proceeded  deliberately  to  hack 
him  to  pieces.  Horrified  and  astounded  at  the  bloody  butchery, 
both  she  and  her  child  rushed  into  the  kitchen,  but  were  silenced 
by  the  most  terrible  threats  of  a like  fate  if  they  dared  inform 
any  one  of  what  they  had  witnessed.  So  they  held  their  tongues. 

The  various  pieces  of  the  body  were  found  where  Fuchs  had 
hidden  them,  and,  after  a lengthy  trial,  he  was  sentenced  to  im- 
prisonment for  life. 

During  the  year  1873,  no  crime  excited  such  wide-spread  in- 
terest and  attention  as  the  Goodrich  murder  in  Brooklyn,  and  the 
circumstances  attendant  upon  it.  The  victim  was  Mr.  Charles 
Goodrich,  who  resided  in  a handsomely  furnished  house  (his  own 


DONE  BY  A WOMAN. 


548 

property)  in  one  of  the  most  fashionable  portions  of  Brooklyn. 
On  the  morning  of  March  21st,  of  the  year  before  mentioned, 
a report  was  made  to  the  police  that  Mr.  Goodrich  was 
lying  dead  in  his  kitchen.  Officers  were  despatched  to  his  resi- 
dence, and,  sure  enough,  Mr.  Goodrich  was  dead,  shot  through 
the  head.  He  was  lying  on  his  back  in  the  front  basement,  a 
pair  of  boots  under  his  head  for  a pillow,  while  on  his  feet  were 
a pair  of  slippers.  The  linen  he  wore  was  fresh  and  clean,  and 
his  hair,  which  was  wet,  had  evidently  been  combed  and  brushed 
only  a short  time  before  the  body  was  discovered.  In  the  back 
basement  were  hung  some  two  or  three  towels,  damp,  as  if  they 
had  been  recently  used.  From  this  and  other  little  circumstances 
which  were  noticed  by  the  detectives  who  had  been  detailed  on 
the  case,  it  was  concluded  that  the  murder  had  been  committed  by 
a woman  ; and  so  it  afterwards  proved.  But  who  was  the 
woman  ? So  far  as  was  generally  known,  the  murdered  man 
lived  by  himself,  and  there  was  no  female  inmate  of  his  house. 
By  dint  of  close  inquiry,  however,  Chief  Campbell  succeeded  in 
ascertaining  that  a woman  named  Lizzie  King,  alias  Kate  Stod- 
dard, had  been  living  with  him  up  to  within  a short  time  of 
his  death.  They  had  had  a misunderstanding  of  some  sort 
and  parted ; and  it  therefore  became  very  necessary  to  find 
Miss  Stoddard.  But  she  had  vanished  in  a most  inexplica- 
ble manner.  Her  features  and  general  appearance  were  un- 
known, and  so  the  only  clew  which  could  be  obtained  as 
to  her  whereabouts  was  that  she  had  been  employed  at  a 
straw  works  on  Broadway,  New  York  City.  This  branch  of 
the  trail  was  thoroughly  followed  up,  and  finally  it  was  learned 
that  the  missing  woman  had  some  time  previously  become  the 
inmate  of  a certain  home  for  fallen  women  in  the  upper  part  of 
New  York.  For  a day  or  two  the  name  and  location  of  the  in- 
stitution remained  unknown,  but  at  length  it  was  found.  Alas, 
it  was  too  late  ! The  bird  had  flown.  She,  however,  had  roomed 
while  in  the  home  with  a young  woman  of  good  education. 
Her  name  was  Marv  Handley,  and  Chief  Campbell  had  a lengthy 
interview  with  her.  The  result  of  that  interview  was  that  she 
became  a detective  for  the  nonce,  her  task  being  the  hunting 
down  of  Kate  Stoddard.  Months  passed  and  still  no  trace  of  the 
missing  and  mysterious  murderess,  as  she  was  alleged  to  be. 
Mary  Handley,  however,  did  not  give  up  the  chase,  neither  did 


A PROVIDENTIAL  MEETING. 


549 


Chief  Campbell,  who  cheered  her  on  when  she  appeared  de- 
spondent at  her  lack  of  success.  She  travelled  here  and  there 
over  the  country,  watching  and  waiting  for  a glimpse  of  the  fam- 
iliar face  and  form  of  her  erstwhile  room-mate.  At  last  on  July 
8,  1873,  the  time  came ; but  in  a most  unforeseen  and  prov- 
idential manner.  She  had  just  had  an  interview  with  Chief 
Campbell  in  his  office,  and  was  about  leaving,  when  he  remarked 
to  her  : 

“ Oh ! by  the  bye,  Mary,  have  you  got  any  money  ? ” 

“No,”  was  her  reply;  “ I wish  you  would  let  me  have  some. 
I’m  going  over  to  New  York,  and  may  want  it.” 

He  handed  her  a five-dollar  bill,  and  she  left  the  office,  still 
carrying  it  in  her  hand  in  an  absent-minded  manner,  thinking 
of  what  the  prospects  were  for  capturing  the  supposed  murderess 
of  Mr.  Goodrich.  Entering  a horse-car  for  the  purpose  of  riding 
to  the  ferry,  still  absorbed  in  her  reflections,  she  carelessly 
rolled  the  five-dollar  bill  which  the  Chief  had  given  her  be- 
tween her  fingers.  The  conductor’s  abrupt  : “ Your  fare, 

miss,”  brought  her  to  her  senses,  and  without  thinking,  out 
of  the  open  car  window  went  the  little  rolled-up  greenback.  She 
realized  in  an  instant  what  she  had  done,  and  managed  to 
stammer  out,  in  reply  to  the  conductor’s  reiterated  request  for 
her  fare  : 

“ Oh ! my  fare.  Please  stop  the  car.  I’ve  just  throwm  my 
money  out  of  the  window.” 

The  car  was  stopped,  and  alighting,  Mary  Handley  retraced 
her  steps,  finding  the  bill  on  the  edge  of  the  curb-stone.  She 
was  not  a very-  great  distance  from  the  ferry  now,  and  so  con- 
cluded to  walk.  Before  she  had  gone  many  yards,  however,  she 
happened  to  glance  on  the  other  side  of  the  street,  and  there  was 
Kate  Stoddard.  Thrilled  with  excitement  at  this  providential 
meeting,  Mary  followed  the  woman  for  whom  she  had  so  long 
been  searching,  until  she  came  to  a police-officer.  Accosting 
him,  she  said  : 

“ Arrest  that  woman  ; the  Chief  wants  her.” 

The  officer,  as  was  but  natural,  demurred  somewhat. 

“ I’ll  go  with  you,”  observed  Mary,  noticing  his  hesitation ; 
“ but  if  you  let  her  escape  you’ll  never  forgive  yourself.” 

The  arrest  was  made,  and  the  much  sought-for  Kate  Stoddard 
was  soon  before  Chief  Campbell  in  his  private  office.  At  first  shp 


550  “ that’s  blood DRIED  blood.” 

denied  that  her  name  was  either  King  or  Stoddard  ; it  must  be  a 
case, of  mistaken  identity,  she  said,  and  she  had  never  roomed 
with,  or  seen  Mary  Handley  before  in  her  life.  All  these  dis- 
claimers were  made  in  a matter-of-fact  manner,  and  with  ah  air 
calculated  to  convince  even  the  most  sceptical. 

But  Mary  Handley  was  positive  she  was  not  mistaken,  and  fi- 
nally Mr.  Campbell  observed  to  the  suspected  woman  : 

“ Madame,  we  don’t  want  to  hold  you  here  if  you  are  not  Kate 
Stoddard.  Be  kind  enough  to  tell  me  where  you  reside,  and  I 
will  at  once  despatch  an  officer  and  ascertain  if  you  are  telling  me 
the  truth.” 

“ That  I’m  sure  I wont  do,”  was  the  somewhat  unexpected  reply 
which  came  from  the  woman’s  lips. 

“Then,”  said  the  Chief,  “you  will  have  to  remain  in  custody; 
but  first  you  must  be  searched.” 

fastened  around  her  neck  by  a chain  was  a large  gold  locket, 
and  as  she  refused  to  hand  it  over  to  Mr.  Campbell  herself  it  was 
taken  from  her.  The  Chief  found  it  a difficult  matter  to  open  it, 
upon  which  the  woman  remarked,  with  more  excitement  than  she 
had  hitherto  exhibited  : 

“Now,  be  careful,”  at  the  same  time  watching  every  move- 
ment of  the  Chief’s  fingers  in  his  endeavors  to  make  the  spring 
work. 

At  length  the  locket  opened  and  disclosed  a few  dark-colored 
crumbs  or  lumps,  some  one  or  two  of  which  fell  upon  the  floor. 
Falling  quickly  on  her  knees,  Kate  Stoddard  hastily  picked  them 
up  and  placed  them  in  her  mouth.  Fearing  they  might  be  poison, 
Chief  Campbell  grasped  hold  of  her  hands  and  asked  : 

“What’s  that?” 

“ That’s  blood — dried  blood,”  was  the  startling  reply. 

“ Why  what  do  you  mean  ? ” questioned  Mr.  Campbell,  whose 
curiosity  was  now  fully  aroused,  as  well  it  might  be,  by  such  an 
announcement. 

“ Never  mind,”  she  said  ; “ I guess  I wont  talk  to  you  any 
further  on  that  subject  now.” 

And  she  didn’t.  All  efforts  to  induce  her  to  disclose  her  place 
of  residence  were  fruitless,  and  she  was  finally  consigned  to  a cell 
for  the  night. 

I should  have  stated  that  when  first  arrested,  and  when  on  her 
way  to  the  station-house,  she  was  seen  to  take  a couple  of  letters 


THREE  HUNDRED  FEMALES  MISSING.  551 

from  her  pocket  and  throw  them  in  the  road.  They  were  picked 
up  and  handed  to  Chief  Campbell,  who  noticed  that  they  were  ad- 
dressed to  parties  in  New  York  and  New  Jersey.  From  this,  and 
the  fact  that  she  was  on  the  east  side  of  the  river  when  arrested, 
he  concluded  that  she  lived  in  Brooklyn.  But  whereabouts  ? 
Brooklyn,  even  then,  was  a pretty  extensive  city,  and  the  task  of 
locating  her  residence  seemed  a hopeless  one.  Chief  Campbell, 
however,  although  comparatively  a novice  in  police  matters,  was 
determined  to  find  out  where  the  woman  lived.  He  adopted  a 
plan,  too,  which  had  never  before  been  tried  and  it  is  doubtful 
whether  it  ever  will  again.  First  consulting  with  the  Police  Com- 
missioners and  obtaining  their  consent  to  the  extraordinary  plan 
which  he  unfolded  to  them,  Mr.  Campbell  called  all  the  captains 
before  him  and  ordered  the  entire  force  on  duty,  reserves  and  all, 
with  instructions  to  inquire  at  every  single  house  in  the  city 
whether  any  female  had  been  missing  for  several  days — since  the 
arrest  of  Kate  Stoddard.  The  result  of  such  a course  of  pro- 
cedure can  be  better  imagined  than  described.  Chief  Campbell 
fully  appreciated  the  odium  which  would  attach  to  him  if  his  plan 
turned  out  a failure;  but  he  never  faltered.  Inquiries  were  made 
as  ordered  and  in  less  than  two  hours  over  300  females  were 
reported  as  having  been  absent  from  the  usual  place  of  abode  since 
the  previous  Tuesday,  including  those  whose  whereabouts  were 
known.  Towards  evening,  one  of  the  captains  went  to  the  Chief 
and  said  : 

“ I’ve  found  it  for  you.” 

“ Indeed,”  was  the  reply  ; “ where  is  it  ? ” 

“ On  High  Street.” 

A latch-key  had  been  taken  from  Kate’s  pocket  when  she  was 
arrested,  and  taking  that  with  him  the  Chief  tried  it  in  the  door 
of  the  indicated  residence.  It  fitted. 

Upon  inquiring  of  the  landlady  it  was  ascertained  that  Kate 
Stoddard  had  a room  there,  fitted  up  in  a very  neat  and  comforta- 
ble manner  by  herself.  Her  trunks  were  there,  and  when  opened 
were  found  to  contain,  besides  books  and  papers,  etc.,  the 
murdered  man’s  watch,  chain,  charms,  pocket-book,  etc.  There 
was  now  not  the  slightest  doubt  but  that  Kate  Stoddard  was  the 
murderess. 

She  was  never  tried  for  the  offence,  her  insanity  being  proved 
beyond  the  shadow  of  a doubt,  and  she  is  now  an  inmate  of  the 
State  Asylum  at  Utica. 


CHAPTER  XL. 


CHIEF  STEWART  OF  THE  PHILADELPHIA  POLICE. — STORY  OF  A 
CRANK. — SAVED  FROM  HIS  ENEMIES. — CHIEF  KELLY,  OF  THE 
PHILADELPHIA  DETECTIVES. — POOR  KIRBY,  AND  HOW  HE  WAS 

KILLED  BY  POLITENESS. CLEVERLY  LAID  PLANS  MISCARRY. A 

PLOT  TO  STEAL  $11,000,000. — COPPER  INSTEAD  OF  GOLD. DISAP  - 
POINTMENT AND  DEATH. “ GOPHER  BILL,”  THE  CUNNING  COUN- 
TERFEITER.   HIS  CAREER  AND  HOW  HE  WAS  CAPTURED.  

WALTER  SHERIDAN. A CURIOUS  HISTORY. A CASE  OF  SHANG- 
HAI.  THE  “ BUNDLE  ” GAME. PRINTED  DESCRIPTIONS  OF 

THIEVES. — SOME  CURIOUS  SPECIMENS. — A BRUTAL  MURDER  IN 

PENNSYLVANIA. ROBBERY  OF  THE  PHILADELPHIA  MINT. A BAR 

OF  SILVER  THAT  WASN’T  MISSED. 

In  a previous  chapter  I have  adverted  to  the  tribe  of  nuisances 
called  cranks,  who  are  constantly  coming  to  police  headquarters 
with  various  and  absurd  complaints.  General  James  Stewart,  Jr., 
Chief  of  the  Philadelphia  Police,*  who  is  not  only  the  finest  look- 
ing chief  of  police  in  America,  but  is  a royal  good  fellow  as  well, 
relates  his  experience  with  one  of  the  above-mentioned  fraternity. 
He  was  quietly  seated  in  his  office  when  the  door  opened  and 
one  of  the  most  remarkable  looking  heads  that  he  had  ever  seen 
was  thrust  into  the  room.  Every  individual  hair  was  standing  per- 
fectly erect,  giving  the  face  a combined  expression  of  surprise, 
anger  and  terror  that  was  perhaps  never  before  seen  on  a human 
being.  Now  there  are  three  kinds  of  men  who  wear  their  hair  after 
the  manner  of  Shakespeare’s  indignant  porcupine  : poets,  Russian 
Nihilists  and  those  who  have  been  confronted  with  danger  so 
great  and  sudden  that  it  caused  their  hair  to  stand  on  end.  As 
the  head  was  followed  by  a well  dressed  body,  the  chief  decided 
that  he  could  not  be  a poet,  and  when  the  man  asked  in  broken 
English  if  he  had  the  honor  of  addressing  the  chief  of  police,  he 
was  found  to  be  a Russian.  He  stated  that  he  had  recently  arrived 
in  the  city,  but  ever  since  his  advent  had  been  constantly 
followed  by  two  men.  He  said  that  while  one  of  the  men  was  only 


* Since  writing  this  General  Stewart  has  resigned  from  office. 

552 


GEN.  JAMES  STEWART,  JR. 
(Ex-Chief  of  the  Philadelphia  Police.) 


553 


554 


a crank’s  delusions. 


„ eight  feet  high,  the  other  had  attained  the  unusual  altitude  of 
nine  feet  in  his  boots.  He  further  said  they  hardly  ever  left  him. 
When  he  arose  in  the  morning  there  was  the  nine-footer  solemnly 
peering  in  at  the  window,  while  his  side  partner,  who  had  come 
down  the  chimney  during  the  night,  was  glaring  at  him  from  the 
hearth  rug.  Did  he  draw  the  curtains  closely,  and  stop  the 
chimney,  the  sleepless  eye  of  the  one  glared  through  the  key- 
hole, while  the  loud  breathing  of  the  other  could  be  heard 
through  the  crack  underneath  the  door.  He  said  it  was  not  agree- 
able to  have  seventeen  feet  of  humanity  constantly  with  one, 
sleeping  or  waking.  He  declared  that  the  taller  man  was  one  of 
the  most  agile  persons  he  had  ever  met,  that  he  thought  nothing 
of  turning  a handspring  over  a lamp-post,  and  on  one  bright  cool 
morning,  when  he  seemed  to  be  feeling  remarkably  well,  he  had 
taken  a flying  leap  over  the  top  of  one  of  the  tallest  telegraph 
poles  in  the  city.  His  eight-foot  friend  was  not  such  a jumper, 
but  for  getting  through  key-holes  and  cracks  of  doors  hardly 
wide  enough  to  admit  the  blade  of  a pen-knife,  for  balancing 
himself  on  the  top  of  a lamp  or  a chair  during  the  entire  night, 
and  sleeping  with  one  eye  open,  he  was  without  an  equal. 
He  had  spoken  to  several  men,  including  some  policemen,  who 
were  too  polite  to  deny  the  truth  of  his  statements,  but  were  so 
discourteous  as  to  laugh  at  him,  and  when  he  pointed  out  the 
giants,  the  officers  either  through  fear  or  because  they  were  sub- 
sidized by  the  long  men,  pretended  not  to  see  them.  Sometimes 
they  were  dressed  as  policemen,  and  he  had  frequently  seen  the 
nine-footer  on  Chestnut  Street,  dressed  in  the  magnificent  uni- 
form with  which  a grateful  city  clothes  its  defenders.  Of  course 
he  knew  they  were  not  real  policemen,  but  assumed  the  garb  to 
more  effectually  terrify  inoffensive  foreigners,  and  he  now  de- 
manded the  protection  of  the  chief  of  police.  General  Stewart 
replied  that  he  heartily  sympathized  with  and  would  protect 
him ; that  such  specimens  of  humanity  instead  of  spending  their 
time  in  following  and  annoying  strangers,  should  confine  them- 
selves to  dime  museums,  where  they  would  draw  trade,  and  help 
swell  the  resources  of  the  municipality  of  Philadelphia.  Asking 
the  Russian  to  be  seated  he  sent  for  two  officers,  and  after  relat- 
ing the  story  told  them  to  go  out  and  look  for  the  two  men 
described,  and  when  found  to  arrest  them  and  bring  them  to  head- 
quarters. The  officers  gravely  assented  and  departed.  In 


FRANCIS  R.  KELLY. 


555 


about  a half  an  hour  they  returned,  and  told  the  chief,  in  the 
presence  of  the  Russian,  who  had  in  the  meantime  been  anxiously 
waiting  in  the  office,  that  they  had  found  the  giants  on  Chestnut 
Street  and  arrested  them,  and  they  were  now  locked  up  in  the 
strong  cells  beneath.  A radiant  expression  overspread  the  face 
of  the  Russian,  and  he  heartily  thanked  the  chief  for  having  re- 
lieved him  of  his  persecutors.  In  about  a week  the  Russian 
again  came  into  the  office,  and  showing  the  chief  a ticket  to 
Europe  said  that  he  intended  to  go  home,  and  had  bought  his 
ticket ; but  on  going  to  the  wharf  where  the  steamship  lay  he  found 
his  two  old  enemies  stationed  at  the  foot  of  the  gangplank,  and 
that  they  absolutely  refused  to  let  him  go  on  board.  Would 
the  chief  once  more  aid  him  and  remove  them  from  the  wharf. 

The  chief  said  that  he  wrould  do  so,  but  if  he  sent  his  officers,  the 
men,  whose  astuteness  equalled  their  length,  would  suspect  danger 
and  would  at  once  board  the  ship ; but  could  they  be  induced  to 
leave  the  wharf  and  remain  until  the  vessel  sailed,  the  Russian 
would  be  rid  of  them  forever.  The  chief  proposed  to  put  some  of 
his  men  into  women’s  clothes,  and  as  all  giants  are  notoriously 
susceptible  to  female  charms,  they  would  undoubtedly  follow  them 
from  the  dock,  when  the  Russian  could  depart  in  safety.  The 
crank  cordially  thanked  the  chief  and  departed  in  a very  happy 
frame  of  mind,  went  on  board  the  ship  and  sailed  away  with  illim- 
itable faith  in,  and  immeasurable  admiration  of  General  James 
Stewart,  Jr.,  Chief  of  the  Police  of  Philadelphia. 

Among  the  many  detective  chiefs  of  the  United  States,  I know 
of  none  other  more  worthy  of  mention  in  this  volume  of  my  remi- 
niscences than  Francis  R.  Kelly,  Chief  of  the  Detective  Bureau  of 
Philadelphia.  He  is  comparatively  a young  man  yet,  but  has 
seen  more  real  service  than  almost  any  other  man  in  the  country 
occupying  a similar  position.  In  view  of  this  fact,  therefore,  it 
will  not  be  out  of  place  if  I make  brief  mention  of  a few  of  the 
notable  cases  in  which  he  has  been  engaged. 

I never  knew  or  heard  of  a better  example  of  the  power  of 
politeness  than  the  following  one.  It  happened  that  in  February, 
1885,  Chief  Kelly  made  up  his  mind  that  it  wouldn’t  be  a bad 
thing  to  let  the  dangerous  classes  of  society  know  that  Philadel- 
phia was  not  going  to  be  a pleasant  abiding  place  during  his  term 
of  office,  and  that  they  would  not  be  allowed  to  ply  their  usual  vo- 
cations with  impunity.  Many  a thief,  pickpocket,  burglar,  or  what 


OVERWHELMED  WITH  ATTENTIONS. 


556 

not  had  been  “ sent  up  ” through  his  instrumentality,  and  there 
were  not  many  rogues  in  town.  But  Still  there  were  a few  rogues 
left,  and  although  they  were  keeping  pretty  quiet,  Chief  Kelly 
determined  to  get  rid  of  them  as  quickly  as  he  could.  And  the 
manner  in  which  he  did  it  in  one  instance  is  worth  mentioning^ 
not  only  by  reason  of  its  amusing  originality,  but  for  its  effective- 
ness as  well.  One  day  a complaint  was  made  to  him  that  an  over- 
coat had  been  stolen  from  the  house  of  a prominent  resident,  and 
“from  information  received  ” the  Chief  made  up  his  mind  that  the 
theft  had  been  committed  by  a well-known  “professional”  named 
Kirby.  There  was  no  proof  against  the  man  from  a legal  point 
of  view,  and  it  would  be  no  use  to  arrest  him  on  mere  suspicion. 
Mr.  Kirby  was  well  aware  of  this  fact,  and  was  therefore  consid- 
erably astonished  at  receiving  a very  polite  intimation  that  his 
presence  was  urgently  desired  by  Chief  Kelly  at  his  office.  He 
accompanied  the  messenger  to  headquarters,  where  his  mind  was 
somewhat  relieved  by  the  assurance  that  he  was  not  “ wanted  ” on 
any  specific  criminal  charge.  But  Kirby’s  disgust  may  be  better 
imagined  than  described  when  he  found  that  the  Chief  had  also 
invited  the  whole  of  his  detective  force  to  attend  the  reception. 
Poor  Kirby  was  introduced  in  turn  to  each  one  present  by  Mr. 
Kelly,  who  was  very  particular  to  observe  every  little  law  laid 
down  in  society’s  etiquette.  At  length  the  introductions  were  con- 
cluded, and  then  Chief  Kelly  outlined  to  him  the  sort  of  life  which 
he  would  have  to  live  if  he  decided  to  reside  in  Philadelphia. 
Other  men  might  step  an  inch  or  two  over  the  line  with  impunity; 
but  as  for  Mr.  Kirby,  he  must  see  to  it  that  his  deportment  was  as 
correct  as  that  of  the  most  straight-laced  Puritan.  The  slightest 
infraction  of  the  law  on  his  part  would  be  followed  by  the  most 
condign  punishment ; and  it  therefore  behooved  him  to  be  careful 
in  the  extreme.  This  was  too  much  for  Kirby.  He  looked  at  the 
Chief  in  a bewildered  manner,  as  if  he  could  hardly  believe  his 
own  ears,  and  then  bolted  from  the  room  most  unceremoniously. 
The  next  day  he  packed  up  his  “ duds  ” and  left  Philadelphia  for 
the  West,  remarking  that  there  was  “ no  good  in  this  confounded 
town,  anyway.” 

In  1880,  Mr.  Alexander  Tutton,  in  addition  to  holding  the  office 
of  Collector  of  the  port  of  Philadelphia,  was  also  custodian  of  the 
U.  S.  Sub-Treasury,  then  located  in  the  Custom-House  Building, 
and  one  day  in  the  early  part  of  the  year  mentioned  he  was  called 


“ love’s  labor  lost.  ” 


557 


upon  by  an  individual  in  clerical  attire,  who  represented  himself 
as  the  Rev.  Dr.  Haddock,  pastor  of  the  Spruce  Street  Church. 
The  “ reverend  ” gentleman  had  called,  so  he  announced  to  Mr. 
Tutton,  for  the  purpose  of  soliciting  the  position  of  watchman  in 
the  Sub-Treasury  for  one  of  his  parishioners — a very  worthy,  hon- 
est, sober  and  capable  man.  Now,  Mr.  Tutton  was  a very  relig- 
iously inclined  gentleman,  and  expressed  himself  as  being  not  only 
willing  but  anxious  to  oblige  such  an  upright  and  distinguished 
divine  as  Dr.  Haddock,  whose  personal  acquaintance  he  had  not 
previously  made.  A vacancy  occurred  very  shortly  afterwards  in 
the  force  of  watchmen,  and  Dr.  Haddock’s  protege  was  appointed 
to  the  position.  This  was  some  time  in  March,  and  the  newly  ap- 
pointed watchman  performed  his  duties  in  a manner  satisfactory 
to  his  superiors.  At  three  o’clock,  Saturday  afternoon,  April  26, 
the  vaults,  which  contained  about  $15,000,000  in  gold,  silver  and 
bills,  were  properly  secured,  the  usual  guard  of  watchmen  set,  and 
the  outer  doors  of  the  building  locked,  not  to  be  opened,  in  the 
ordinary  course  of  affairs,  until  the  following  Monday  morning. 
But  something  extraordinary  occurred  in  the  interval,  and  that  the 
doors  were  opened  subsequent  discoveries  plainly  showed.  Ad- 
joining the  Custom-House  Building  was  a bonded  warehouse,  and 
when  the  laborers  employed  there  entered  on  Monday  morning 
they  found  that  a hole  had  been  dug  through  the  wall,  on  a level 
with  and  in  the  direction  of  the  Sub-Treasury  vaults.  The  con- 
sternation, when  this  startling  piece  of  information  was  imparted 
to  the  Sub-Treasury  officials,  was  something  almost  ludicrous  at 
first,  but  it  disappeared  when  it  was  learned  that  the  diggers  of  the 
hole  had  failed  in  their  endeavors  to  reach  the  gold  and  bill  com 
partments,  and  had  only  succeeded  in  possessing  themselves  of  a 
bag  containing  about  $20  in  copper  coin.  As  a set-off  they  left 
behind  them  a well-finished  kit  of  burglar’s  tools,  the  making  of 
which  must  have  cost  the  expenditure  of  considerable  time  and 
money. 

The  fact  of  such  an  audacious  attempt  having  been  made  was 
kept  a profound  secret  from  the  outside  public  for  some  time,  as  it 
was  feared  the  disclosure  of  it  would  tend  to  defeat  the  ends  of 
justice.  Chief  Kelly,  who  was  at  that  time  an  officer  of  the  U.  S. 
Secret  Service,  was  put  in  charge  of  the  case,  and  followed  up 
the  slight  clews  with  which  he  . was  furnished-  After  several 
months  of  investigation  in  various  directions,  travelling  hither  and 


558 


A PUZZLED  DIVINE. 


thither  over  nearly  the  whole  country,  Kelly  succeeded  in  sifting 
the  matter  to  the  very  bottom.  He  argued  to  himself  that  one  or 
more  of  the  force  of  watchmen  on  guard  in  the  treasury  had  been 
in  collusion  with  the  burglars,  and  had  admitted  them  into  the 
warehouse  adjoining  the  Custom  House.  The  antecedents  of 
each  of  Jjiem  was  looked  into  closely,  and  all  gave  a satisfactory 
account  of  themselves,  with  the  exception  of  the  individual  who 
had  been  appointed  through  the  influence  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Had- 
dock. His  story  of  his  previous  life  was  rather  vague,  and  the 
clergyman  himself  was  applied  to. 

“ Did  Mr.  Haddock  know  anything  about  his  parishioner  ? ” 
asked  Kelly. 

The  divine  was  puzzled  ; he  knew  nothing  about  any  parish- 
ioner of  his  who  was  a watchman  in  the  Custom  House,  neither 
had  he  recommended  any  one  for  such  a position  ; didn’t  know 
Collector  Tutton,  and  had  never  called  upon  him.  Further  inqui- 
ries developed  the  fact  that  the  “ parishioner  ” was  no  other  than 
“ Shang  ” Miller,  an  old-time  thief  and  crook,  and  the  individual 
who  called  upon  Collector  Tutton  in  the  guise  of  Dr.  Haddock, 
was  another  of  the  gang.  “ Shang,”  it  had  been  arranged,  was  to 
furnish  his  confederates  with  a plan  of  the  vaults,  and  it  was  only 
through  his  carelessness  that  the  most  important  part  of  the  plot 
was  a failure.  By  some  miscalculation  “ Shang  ” failed  to  locate 
the  different  vaults  properly.  After  he  had  things  all  “ O.  K.,”  as 
he  supposed,  he  let  in  “ Big  Jack”  Eberman  (who  was  the  origi- 
nator of  the  “ job  ”),  Bill  Cutler  and  a couple  of  others,  stowing 
them  away  until  after  dark  in  a little  loft  under  the  roof.  They 
worked  Saturday  night,  all  day  Sunday,  until  Monday  morning, 
when  they  found  themselves  in  the  copper  vault,  having  missed 
the  gold  compartment  by  a few  inches.  Their  disgust  can  be 
more  easily  imagined  than  described.  In  fact,  their  failure  to  get 
the  $15,000,000  in  gold  actually  broke  “ Big  Jack’s  ” heart,  and  he 
died  six  weeks  afterwards.  He  kept  a saloon  on  Vine  Street,  be- 
low Sixth,  Philadelphia,  at  the  time  of  the  robbery,  but  was  well 
known  among  police  officials  and  others  all  over  the  country. 

Another  noted  criminal  with  the  capture  of  whom  Chief  Kelly 
had  considerable  to  do  when  he  was  a Secret  Service  Agent,  was 
William  H.  Robinson,  better  known  as  “ Gopher  Bill,”  the  well- 
known  counterfeiter  and  “ shover  of  the  queer.”  It  was  in  the 
summer  of  1880.  For  some  considerable  period  prior  to  the 


COUNTERFEIT  BANK-NOTES. 


559 


month  of  June  in  the  year  mentioned,  the  city  of  Philadelphia  had 
been  flooded  with  $5,  $10  and  $50  bank-notes,  and  although 
every  effort  had  been  made  to  discover  the  source  from  which 
they  emanated,  there  had  been  no  tangible  results.  Kelly,  with 
another  secret  agent  of  the  Government,  was  placed  on  the  case, 


FRANCIS  R.  KELLY. 
Chief  of  Detectives. 


and  the  two  soon  made  important  discoveries.  They  learned,  by 
means  which  it  would  not  be  policy  to  divulge . even  ,at  this  late 
day,  that  the  members  of  a certain  gang  in  Philadelphia  were 
operating  in  conjunction  with  another,  the  headquarters  of  which 
were  in  Baltimore.  Kelly  and  his  “ side  partner,”  therefore, 
watched  the  trains  and  boats  arriving  from  the  latter  city  pretty 
closely  for  several  weeks.  At  length  their  patience  was  rewarded 


THE  GAME  WAS  UP  ! 


560 

one  day  by  the  sight  of  Frederick  Umneck  and  James  Lock,  the 
character  of  neither  of  whom  would  bear  investigation,  walking 
down  the  gangplank  of  a steamer.  Both  the  men  mentioned 
walked  slowly  along  Delaware  Avenue,  followed  by  the  detectives, 
and  were  met  a few  blocks  below  the  landing-place,  by  the  “ Go- 
pher,'” who,  after  a few  minutes’  conversation,  handed  them  a small 
package.  Knowing  Mr.  Robinson’s  tricky  nature,  the  officers 
allowed  him  to  go  his  own  way  unmolested  for  a time,  but  fol- 
lowed up  Umneck  and  Lock.  And  a weary  following  up  it  was, 
too, — first  into  one  saloon  for  a drink  or  cigar  ; then  into  another; 
next,  a small  purchase  was  made  in  a store,  the  officers  all  the 
time  close  at  their  heels.  Finally  they  landed  in  the  Broad  Street 
station,  and  boarded  a train  for  Baltimore.  But  as  they  sat  in  the 
smoking  car,  each  puffing  away  at  a good  cigar,  they  were  utterly 
unconscious  of  evil  from  the  two  innocent-looking  men  who  sat 
behind  them,  seemingly  intent  upon  watching  the  country  through 
which  they  passed,  but  who,  in  reality,  were  closely  watching 
every  action  and  listening  to  every  word.  Baltimore  was  reached, 
and  the  two  men,  after  having  wished  each  other  a cordial  “good 
night,”  were  about  to  separate,  when  heavy  hands  were  laid  on 
their  shoulders,  and  a pair  of  voices  simultaneously  declared  that 
they  were  both  under  arrest.  The  game  was  up  ! When  searched 
in  the  station-house  to  which  they  were  at  once  taken,  it  was  dis- 
covered that  the  package  which  they  had  received  from  “ Gopher 
Bill”  in  Philadelphia  contained  sixty-two  ten-dollar  bills,  purport- 
ing to  be  issued  by  the  Muncy  (Pa.)  National  Bank  ; five  fifty- 
dollar  notes  of  the  Central  National  Bank  of  New  York,  and 
spurious  silver  coin  to  the  amount  of  $200.  The  next  day,  Um- 
neck and  Lock  were  both  committed  to  prison  in  default  of  $ 10,000 
bail,  to  await  trial.  Kelly  and  his  comrade  then  went  post-haste  to 
Philadelphia  and  devoted  their  best  energies  to  keeping  a watch- 
ful eye  upon  “Gopher  Bill,”  with  a view  of  ascertaining  whether 
he  had  any  partners  in  his  “ business.”  They  soon  noticed  that 
the  “ Gopher  ” was  often  accompanied  by  a respectable,  quiet  and 
inoffensive  looking  man,  whose  identity  was  at  first  unknown  to 
the  detectives.  It  was  soon  ascertained,  however,  that  his  name 
was  Alfred  L.  Hubbard,  and  that  he  lived,  with  his  wife,  in  a two- 
story  brick  house  at  No.  632  McKean  Street.  Watching  their 
opportunity,  the  officers  made  a descent  on  Hubbard’s  residence 
one  evening,  and  in  a closet  in  a rear  room  were  found  twenty-five 


A ftREAT  “ ORGANIZER.  ” 


56' 

packages  of  counterfeit  Bland  and  trade  dollars,  as  well  as  eight 
rolls  of  half  dollars — amounting  altogether  to  somewhere  about 
$900  of  spurious  coin.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hubbard  were  accordingly 
arrested,  and  the  very  next  day  “Gopher  Bill”  himself  was  in 
custody.  Mrs.  Hubbard  was  not  held  for  trial,  but  was  discharged. 
Her  husband  and  “ Gopher,”  however,  were  both  tried  and  sen- 
tenced to  eight  years’  imprisonment  in  the  Eastern  Peniten- 
tiary. Before  sentencing  “Gopher,”  Judge  Butler  asked  him  what 
he  had  to  say.  His  reply  was  that  so  many  of  his  years  had  been 
spent  in  crooked  ways  that  it  was  a matter  of  impossibility  for  him 
to  become  “ straight.”  That  fact,  he  thought,  should  be  taken  into 
consideration.  Judge  Butler,  however,  said  his  chronic  crooked- 
ness was  all  the  greater  reason  that  society  should  be  protected, 
and  he  should  accordingly  send  him  where  he  would  no  longer  be 
a menace  to  the  public. 

Few  men,  indeed,  have  attained  more  notoriety  in  the  counter- 
feiting business  than  “ Gopher  Bill.”  He  commenced  his  career 
away  back  beyond  the  memory  of  the  oldest  detectives  now  in  the 
service.  His  specialty  seems  to  have  been  to  receive  bogus  money 
from  the  manufacturers,  and  to  make  all  the  necessary  arrange- 
ments for  disposing  of  it  among  the  “circulators.”  His  slyness 
and  cunning  was  such  as  to  very  often  baffle  the  skill  of  the 
shrewdest  detectives,  the  great  difficulty  being  to  find  the  spurious 
money  in  his  possession  and  to  locate  the  parties  with  whom  he 
dealt.  As  compared  with  the  number  of  counterfeiting  enterprises 
in  which  “ Gopher  ” engaged,  the  number  of  times  he  has  been 
arrested  is  very  small.  He  was  a great  organizer,  and  was  con- 
sulted by  those  high  in  the  “ profession  ” whenever  any  scheme  of 
unusual  magnitude  was  proposed.  In  1877  he  was  arrested  by 
Agent  Drummond,  but  as  only  one  counterfeit  coin  was  found  on 
him  when  he  was  searched,  it  was  found  impossible  to  convict 
him.  It  is  believed,  though  there  is  no  positive  proof,  that  it  was 
he  who  supplied  “ Big  Frank  ” McCoy  with  the  tools  which  en- 
abled that  notorious  and  enterprising  criminal  to  make  his  escape 
from  the  Newcastle  (Del.)  Jail.  “ Gopher,”  however,  came  to 
grief  in  the  summer  of  1878,  when  he  was  “ caught  dead  to  rights,” 
and  sentenced  to  eighteen  months’  imprisonment.  He  served 
out  his  time,  and  shortly  after  his  release,  in  October,  1879,  was 
again  in  custody  on  suspicion  of  being  concerned  in  the  robbery 
of  the  Bailey  Brothers,  at  Kennett  Square.  He  gave  certain  infor- 
36' 


562 


A VERSATILE  RASCAL. 


mation  to  the  police,  however,  and  he  was  released.  His  com- 
panions, Charley  Miller  and  Charles  Jones,  alias  “Blake,”  were 
sentenced  to  long  terms  of  imprisonment  in  the  Penitentiary. 
Miller’s  friends,  of  course,  were  furious  at  the  treacherous  conduct 
of  the  “ Gopher,”  and  vowed  to  be  revenged.  Some  time  after- 
wards, “Gopher”  was  attacked  by  James  Cassidy,  one  of  Miller’s 
“ pals,”  and  left  lying  for  dead  on  the  pavement  at  the  corner  of 
Eighth  and  Vine  streets.  He  was  laid  up  for  some  time,  but 
finally  recovered,  and  carried  on  his  “ business  ” again,  until  cap- 
tured by  Chief  Kelly  as  previously  narrated. 

Chief  Kelly,  too,  was  well  acquainted  with  Walter  Sheridan,  the 
famous  forger  and  diamond  thief.  Very  seldom,  indeed,  is  it 
that  these  two  branches  of  crime  are  “ worked  ” by  one  man  ; but 
Sheridan,  so  Chief  Kelly  informed  me,  always  was  a peculiar  fel- 
low, but  probably  united  the  two  “ businesses  ” so  that  he  might 
always  have  something  to  fall  back  upon.  Sheridan  was  a native 
of  New  Orleans,  where  he  first  saw  the  light  in  1832.  His  par- 
ents were  moderately  well  off,  and  he  received  a fair  education. 
When  but  a mere  lad  he  drifted,  as  it  were,  into  crime,  and  at  a 
very  early  age  made  his  appearance  in  Western  Missouri  in  the 
role  of  a horse  thief.  Subsequently,  he  became  an  accomplished 
general  thief  and  confidence  man,  but  he  more  especially  distin- 
guished himself  as  a bank  sneak.  In  company  with  Joseph 
Moran  he  was  arrested  in  1858  for  being  Lconcerned  in  a bank 
robbery  in  Chicago,  and  was  sentenced  to  five  years’  imprison 
ment  in  the  Alton  Penitentiary.  The  next  operation  of  any  mag 
nitude  in  which  he'  engaged  was  the  theft  of  $35,000  from  the 
vaults  of  the  National  Bank  of  Springfield,  111.  He  had  with 
him  as  partners  on  that  occasion  Charles  Hicks  and  Phil.  Pearson, 
two  noted  experts  in  their  line.  Sheridan,  who  was  a plausible 
and  entertaining  conversationalist,  engaged  the  attention  of  the 
teller  of  the  bank,  while  his  companions  crept  in  behind  the 
counter  and  stole  the  money.  Months  afterwards,  Sheridan  was 
arrested  at  Toledo,  Ohio,  by  Wm.  Pinkerton  with  $22,000  of  the 
stolen  money  in  his  possession.  He  was  placed  on  trial,  but  as 
the  prosecution  could  not  prove  that  he  did  any  more  than  en- 
gage the  teller  in  conversation  while  the  theft  was  being  perpe- 
trated, he  was  acquitted.  Then  he  came  East,  and  in  Baltimore 
robbed  the  American  Fire  Insurance  Co.  of  $50,000,  but  again 
escaped  conviction.  He  was  equally  fortunate  in  June,  1870, 


.“out”  $75,000. 


563 


when  arrested  for  stealing  $37,800  from  the  Mechanics’  Bank  of 
Scranton,  Pa.  Probably  the  neatest  “job”  ever  performed  by 
Sheridan  was,  when,  some  six  or  seven  years  ago,  he  accosted 
Mr.  Blatchford  (father  of  U.  S.  Judge  Blatchford)  at  the  corner  of 
Nassau  and  Liberty  streets.  The  gentleman  named  held  in  his 
hand  a package  of  bonds  of  the  value  of  $75,000  and  stopped  at 
a street  stall  to  purchase  an  apple.  Sheridan  spoke  to  him,  and 
so  interested  Mr.  Blatchford  in  the  conversation  that  he  unthink- 
ingly laid  the  bonds  upon  the  stall.  In  a moment  it  was  snatched 
up  by  one  of  Sheridan’s  confederates,  and  Mr.  Blatchford  was 
“out”  $75,000.  Nothing,  of  course,  could  be  legally  proved 
against  Sheridan,  and  he  was  not  even  arrested.  A portion  of 
the  bonds,  however,  were  subsequently  recovered,  but  in  what 
way,  I was  never  able  to  ascertain. 

I have  already  given  an  account,  in  a previous  chapter,  of  the 
attempt  made  by  George  Wilkes  and  others,  in  1873,  to  swindle 
Wall  Street  brokers  by  the  wholesale  issue  of  fraudulent  stock. 
Sheridan  was  one  of  the  “ gang  ” and  was  also  concerned  in  the 
plot  to  forge  letters  of  credit  on  the  Bank  of  England.  He  be- 
came disgusted  with  the  way  in  which  the  affair  was  being  con- 
ducted by  certain  confederates  on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic, 
and  declined  to  have  any  further  hand  in  the  “job.”  In  the 
same  year,  too,  one  of  Sheridan’s  “ enterprises  ” raised  quite  a 
commotion  in  financial  circles.  After  months  of  planning  and 
negotiating,  he  succeeded  in  obtaining  a loan  of  $84,000  from  the 
New  York  Guaranty  & Indemnity  Co.,  depositing  as  security 
Buffalo  and  Erie  Railroad  bonds,  of  the  face  value  of  $100,000. 
Close  scrutiny  showed  these  bonds  to  be  expert  and  clever  for- 
geries. Previous  to  this  coup  Sheridan  had,  by  some  means  or 
other,  become  a member  of  the  Produce  Exchange,  under  the 
assumed  and  somewhat  romantic  name  of  Charles  Ralston.  Im- 
mediately upon  the  discovery  of  the  swindle,  detectives  were  put 
upon  Sheridan’s  track,  but  he  managed  to  get  away  from  New 
York  with  the  money.  In  less  than  a week  he  was  heard  of  in 
Washington,  D.  C.,  where  he  was  arrested  and  brought  back  to 
this  city.  The  evidence  brought  against  him  on  his  trial  w'as 
overwhelming.  He  was  convicted  and  sent  to  Sing  Sing  for  five 
years.  Upon  the  expiration  of  his  term  of  imprisonment, 
Sheridan  formed  a co-partnership  with  Joe  McClosky,  one  of  the 
shrewdest  thieves  in  the  country,  and  the  pair  “ worked  ” together 


1 


564 


A CASE  OF  “ SHANGHAI. 


for  some  time.  They  stole  a tray  of  diamonds  from  a jewellery 
store  in  Philadelphia,  and  afterwards  robbed  a travelling  sales- 
man’s sample  trunk  of  a considerable  quantity  of  jewellery  in  the 
same  city.  The  Jewellers’  Association  of  New  York  took  the  mat- 
ter in  hand,  and  Sheridan’s  photograph,  which  was  in  the  Rogues’ 
Gallery,  was  shown  the  individuals  from  whom  the  goods  were 
stolen.  They  identified  him  immediately,  and  soon  afterwards  he 
was  arrested  by  the  Philadelphia  police.  It  cost  him  three  years 
in  the  Eastern  Penitentiary.  Drifting  out  West,  upon  his  release, 
Sheridan,  in  the  fall  of  1883,  was  arrested  in  Topeka,  Kansas,  for 
passing  three  counterfeit  $500  bills,  and  was  sent  into  retirement 
for  two  years.  Sheridan  is  now  in  the  House  of  Correction  at 
Oporto,  Portugal,  having  been  detected  in  attempting  to  pass 
three  bogus  ^500  Bank  of  England  notes  upon  the  cashier  of  the 
London  and  Brazilian  Bank. 

The  only  case  of  “ Shanghai,”  as  it  is  called,  which  has  oc- 
curred in  recent  years  in  Philadelphia,  was  one  which  came  under 
the  notice  of  Chief  Kelly  in  the  month  of  October,  1884,  although 
the  event  actually  occurred  some  considerable  time  previous  to 
that.  One  day,  in  the  first  week  of  the  month  above  mentioned, 
Chief  Kelly  received  a letter  from  the  Chief  Constable  of  Roch- 
dale, England,  giving  certain  details  concerning  what  was  alleged 
to  have  been  the  kidnapping  of  a young  man  in  Philadelphia  during 
the  previous  August.  Chief  Kelly  was  informed  in  the  letter 
that  in  June,  Frank  Tansey,  a resident  of  Rochdale,  sailed  from 
Liverpool  for  Philadelphia,  on  board  the  steamer  Lord  Gough. 
Shortly  after  arriving  in  the  city  he  secured  employment  in  Messrs. 
Morris  & Tasker’s  Iron  Works,  and  went  to  lodge  at  X.  Kaufman’s 
saloon,  No.  22  Morris  Street.  He  worked  at  the  foundry  for 
several  weeks,  and  was  then  discharged  on  account  of  the  slackness 
of  trade.  One  day,  as  young  Tansey  was  walking  along  the 
wharves,  “ near  where  the  steamers  came  in  from  Boston,”  he 
entered  into  conversation  with  a strange  man,  who  finally  asked  him 
if  he  was  in  search  of  work.  Tansey  replied  that  he  was,  and  his 
chance  companion  at  once  volunteered  to  get  him  work  “ down 
the  river.”  Both  then  got  aboard  a small  steamer,  and  after  a 
long  run  down  the  Delaware,  Tansey  was  placed  upon  the 
Swedish  barque  Selma.  Once  on  board  of  her,  although  he 
knew  nothing  about  seamanship  and  protested  against  his  treat- 
ment in  a vigorous  manner,  he  was  compelled  to  work  “ before  the 


A CLEVER  CAPTURE. 


565 


mast.”  The  vessel  arrived  at  Hamburg,  her  destination,  in  thirty- 
five  days,  and  here  Tansey  was  most  unceremoniously  discharged 
with  just  £1  in  English  money  as  his  pay.  He  informed  the 
British  consul  of  his  condition,  and  that  official  immediately  for- 
warded him  to  his  home  in  Rochdale. 

Inquiries  were  set  on  foot  by  Chief  Kelly  upon  receipt  of  the 
above  mentioned  letter,  and  he  found  ample  evidence  that 
Tansey’s  statements  were  correct.  His  trunk  was  found  at 
Kaufman’s  saloon,  but  £13  which  it  contained  when  he  was  spir- 
ited away  was  missing.  From  all  appearances,  Chief  Kelly  was  con- 
vinced .the  affair  was  a case  of  “ Shanghai,”  a term  which  origi- 
nated many  years  ago,  when  the  crime  of  forcing  seamen  and  others 
on  board  vessels  just  as  they  were  about  to  leave  port  was  a com- 
mon almost  every-day  occurrence. 

It  was  in  the  same  month  and  the  same  year  that  Chief  Kelly, 
assisted  by  two  of  his  men,  made  a clever  capture,  one  morning, 
of  two  notorious  burglars,  and  also  recovered  considerable  valuable 
property  which  had  been  stolen  the  night  before.  When  Mr. 
Kelly  reached  his  office  that  morning  he  found  two  complaints  of 
robberies,  one  of  which  is  known  as  the  “bundle  game.”  A 
messenger  boy  was  taking  a package  of  goods  from  the  store  of 
Messrs.  Murray  & Wilson,  Thirteenth  Street,  when  at  the  corner  of 
Tenth  and  Chestnut  streets,  he  was  accosted  by  a man  who  asked 
him  to  take  a note  a short  distance  for  a pecuniary  consideration. 
The  lad  assented,  and  started  off  with  the  note,  leaving  the  bundle, 
which  contained  $50  worth  of  dry-goods,  in  the  hands  of  the  man, 
who  said  he  would  await  his  return.  Needless  to  say,  the  man 
did  not  wait,  and  the  boy  returned  to  his  employers  in  a discon- 
solate mood.  The  second  robbery  was  perpetrated  at  the  cutlery 
store,  Nos.  1927  and  1929  Market  Street,  not  far  from  $400  worth 
of  razors,  forks,  knives  and  spoons  being  secured  by  the  burglars- 
For  some  time  previous  to  this  Chief  Kelly  had  suspected  that 
some  of  the  inmates  of  a cheap  lodging-house,  situated  on  North 
Eighth  Street,  were  not  as  honest  as  they  might  be.  The  mes- 
senger boy,  too,  gave  a description  of  the  man  who  relieved  him  of 
his  bundle  which  tallied  with  that  of  an  individual  who  had  been 
seen  at  the  house  in  question.  Without  any  delay,  therefore, 
Chief  Kelly  visited  the  premises,  and  hurrying  up  stairs  to  the 
third-story  back  room,  took  the  thieves  completely  by  surprise. 


566 


DESCRIPTIONS  OF  CRIMINALS. 


So  unprepared  were  they  for  the  Chief’s  visit  that  they  had  made 
no  effort  to  conceal  the  stolen  property,  which  was  lying  on  the 
floor.  The  men  proved  to  be  “ Boston  ” Crandell  and  Frank 
Wilson,  both  of  whom  had  served  terms  of  imprisonment  in  not  a 
few  prisons  of  various  States. 

I don’t  believe  that  over  ten  rogues  in  a hundred  are  ever  caught 
by  the  printed  descriptions  of  them,  which  may  be  sent  broadcast 
all  over  the  country  without  any  result.  The  embezzler,  the  forger, 
the  murderer,  all  know  how  to  guard  against  recognition  from  such 
a description  as  a general  rule.  But  when  the  authorities  are  fur- 
nished with  a photograph  of  the  suspected  criminal,  the  case  is 
different.  A man  cannot  change  the  expression  in  his  eyes,  which 
is,  after  all,  the  main  point.  The  English  police  officials  are  very 
profuse  and  minute  in  their  descriptions  of  criminals  of  whom  they 
are  in  search.  Take,  for  instance,  the  following,  of  a man  named 
Harry  Hammond  Swindells,  suspected  of  having  fled  to  this 
country  after  committing  a murder  at  Oldham,  Lancashire  : “ He 
is  49  years  of  age,  five  feet  three  and  a half  inches  high,  sallow 
complexion,  dark  brown  hair  and  beard  American  fashion,  whiskers 
shaved  off,  dark  blue  eyes,  Roman  nose  with  blue  mark  on  the 
bridge,  high  cheek  bones,  large  mouth,  has  only  one  or  two  teeth 
in  upper  jaw,  scar  on  right  side  of  neck,  little  finger  of  right  hand 
crooked,  walks  with  a swinging  gait,  dressed  in  a black-ribbed, 
double-breasted  slap-back  jacket  (the  right  shoulder  and  arm  of 
which  may  bear  traces  of  lime-wash),  trowsers  and  vest  of  same 
material,  new  black  soft  billy-cock  hat  with  a large  brim,  and  new 
spring-side  boots,  with  square  toes.” 

Another,  selected  at  random,  was  from  Bromberg  (Germany), 
dated  October  23,  1883,  and  headed  “Warrant  of  Caption.” 
Translated  into  English  it  read  as  follows : 

“ It  is  notified  that  the  imprisonment  for  inquiry  has  been  de- 
creed by  judgment  against  the  below-described  banker,  Nathan 
Szkolny,  of  Inowrazlaw,  Prussia,  on  account  of  fraudulent  bank- 
ruptcy and  counterfeiting  of  documents  referring  to  section  209, 
No.  1,  of  the  bankruptcy  law,,  and  sections  267,  268,  No.  1,  74  of 
the  penal  code.  It  is  requested  to  arrest  him  where  he  is  met,  to 
seize  the  money  and  effects  found  with  him,  and  to  give  me  notice. 
Szkolny  has  falsified  bills  of  exchange  to  the  amount  of  about  200,- 
000  marks,  and  has  escaped  with  the  money  he  has  got  thereby. 


A REGULAR  APOLLO ! 567 

His  creditors  guarantee  to  any  one  who  seizes  him  a reward  of 
fifteen  per  cent,  of  the  amount  being  in  his  possession. 

“ For  the  Royal  Attorney  of  State, 

“ SCHULZE-V ELLINGHAUSEN.” 

The  description  which  follows  is  unique  in  its  way,  and  includes 
the  following  “ special  marks,”  as  they  are  termed  : 

“ Szkolny  wears  blue  spectacles,  has  a glass  eye,  stutters  and 
has  two  false  teeth  in  the  under  jaw.  He  walks  slowly  and  the 
legs  are  ‘ O 'formed” 

Quite  a prepossessing  sort  of  a fellow,  but  not  quite  as  handsome, 
was  an  individual  once  u wanted  ” in  Chicago,  where  he  had  suc- 
ceeded in  winning  the  heart  and  person  of  a trusting  maiden,  and 
then  cruelly  refused  to  fulfil  his  promise  of  wedding  her.  His 
name  was  Erastus  Judson  Stillwind,  and  the  description  furnished 
is  quite  unique  in  its  way  : 

“ He  claims  to  be  forty-five  years  of  age,  but  looks  twenty  years 
older  ; is  smooth  shaven  and  wears  a dark  brown  wig,  reaching 
over  the  forehead.  He  squints  a great  deal,  and  is  constantly 
chewing  tobacco  ; complexion  sallow,  with  hollow  cheeks,  receding 
chin,  prominent  nose,  on  the  left  side  of  which  are  two  warts ; 
about  five  feet  six  inches  tall,  stoops  considerably  and  has  a halt- 
ing gait,  caused  by  a club  foot  and  knock-knees.  Weight,  about 
130  to  140  lbs.,  but  made  up  to  look  much  heavier.” 

What  an  Apollo  ! None  of  my  men  ever  came  across  such  a 
one,  and  I have  often  wondered  whether  his  inamorata  was  as 
good-looking  and  well-favored  as  he. 

As  a general  rule  we  always  had  enough  to  do  with  looking  after 
our  own  criminals  ; and  unless  a man  was  very  distinctly  marked, 
and  the  crime  freshly  committed,  it  was  very  seldom  he  was  captured 
unless  by  accident.  It  has  often  happened  that  an  individual  has 
been  arrested  on  suspicion,  or  for  some  petty  offence,  and  has 
turned  out  to  be  a fugitive  from  some  other  city  or  State.  Then 
the  printed  description,  for  want  of  a photograph,  comes  in  very 
handy. 

Circulars  in  relation  to  eloping  couples  are  very  numerous,  and 
I have  noticed  that  in  nearly  every  instance  where  rewards  are 
offered  the  advertiser  is  the  husband  and  of  German  birth.  The 
women,  too,  are  usually  well  advanced  in  years.  For  instance, 
some  years  ago,  Mr.  B.  Hettisheimer,  a resident  of  Cincinnati,  was 


568 


“ pete’s”  discovery. 


anxious  for  the  return  of  his  wife,  forty-three  years  old,  who  had 
run  away  with  a young  man  not  half  her  age.  Then  there  was  a 
dangerous  young  flirt  of  fifty,  who  had  eloped  from  her  lawful  lord 
and  master,  a Mr.  Tremble,  of  Pittsburg,  with  a Frenchman 
named  Shew.  Twenty-five  dollars  appears  to  be  the  average 
amount  which  husbands  are  willing  to  pay  for  the  return  of  their 
erring  helpmeets,  but  a woman  never  offers  to  pay  anything  for 
a missing  husband.  Strange,  isn’t  it? 

In  October,  1884,  I received  information  from  the  Philadelphia 
police  authorities  that  an  Italian  had  been  brutally  murdered  in 
the  woods  near  Linwood,  Deleware  Co.,  Pennsylvania,  and  that 
the  suspected  murderer,  also  an  Italian,  would  doubtless  attempt 
to  sail  from  New  York  on  his  way  to  his  native  land.  The  body 
of  the  murdered  man,  who  was  employed  on  the  Baltimore  and 
Philadelphia  R.R.,  and  was  known  as  “ No.  25  ” by  the  contractor, 
was  discovered  in  a deep  ravine  near  Upper  Chichester,  by  an 
Italian  lad  named  “ Pete  ”.  The  head  of  the  poor  victim  had  been 
beaten  into  an  almost  shapeless  mass,  and  a formidable  hickory 
club  about  five  feet  long,  covered  with  blood  and  hair,  was  found 
near  by.  His  pants  pockets  were  turned  inside  out,  and  the  belt 
in  which  he  carried  his  money,  and  wore  around  his  waist,  had 
been  cut  open.  The  identity  of  the  murderer  was  shrouded  in 
mystery,  and  various  theories  were  broached  by  the  police  and  de- 
tectives. A lot  of  apples  were  on  the  ground  near  the  body,  which, 
it  should  be  mentioned,  was  lying  in  an  orchard  on  the  farm  of  two 
German  brothers,  and  this,  together  with  the  fact  that  the  blood- 
stained club  had  evidently  been  taken  from  a wood-pile  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  farm-house,  led  to  the  belief  that  the  killing  had 
been  done  by  one  of  the  inmates  who  had  caught  him  trespassing 
and  stealing  the  apples.  For  a long  time  no  clew  was  obtained 
as  to  the  murdered  man’s  name.  The  contractor  in  whose  employ 
he  worked  as  a stone-mason  only  reconized  him  as  “ No.  25.”  At 
length  it  was  discovered  that  the  dead  man,  together  with  a friend 
whose  name,  also,  was  not  ascertainable  at  first,  but  was  subse- 
quently discovered  to  be  Giuseppi  Davino,  had  lived  in  a shanty 
kept  by  a fellow  countryman,  and  known  as  “ Frank’s  Hut.”  In 
this  shanty  the  detectives  found  an  old  trunk  belonging  to  the  de- 
ceased, containing  some  clothing  and  other  effects  ; and  a pass- 
port in  the  pocket  of  a coat,  gave  his  name  as  Nevaciante  Ciampi. 
His  friend  Davino  had  also  disappeared  just  previous  to  the  find- 


CIAMPl’s  CORPSE. 


S69 


ing  of  the  body.  By  diligent  inquiries  it  was  also  found  that  on 
October  21st,  Ciampi  and  Davino  had  visited  a place  called  Belle- 
view,  a mile  or  two  from  the  shanty,  and  had  remained  there  near- 
ly the  whole  of  the  day.  They  were  seen  to  leave  Belleview  in 
company  the  same  evening,  walking  in  the  direction  of  their  camp, 
where,  however,  they  did  not  put  in  an  appearance.  Three  days 
afterwards  Ciampi’s  corpse  was  found  as  above  stated,  three  miles 
from  “ Frank’s  Hut.”  He  had  always  been  an  industrious,  sober 
and  hard-working  man  ; while  his  companion,  Davino,  was  de- 
scribed by  those  who  knew  him  as  a worthless,  lazy  fellow,  never 
working  when  he  could  possibly  avoid  it  and  sponging  on  his  fel- 
low countrymen.  He  was  always  longing  to  return  to  Italy,  and 
had  begged  his  friends  there  time  and  time  again  to  remit  him 
money  enough  to  pay  his  expenses.  They  always  refused,  and  his 
sudden  disappearance,  therefore,  caused  much  comment.  He  was 
traced  to  this  city,  where  towards  the  end  of  December  my  de- 
tectives, who  had  been  furnished  with  Davino’s  description,  found 
that  he  had  sailed  for  Italy  on  the  3d  of  the  month  named.  Upon 
learning  this,  Chief  Kelly  communicated  with  the  Italian  authori- 
ties, and  at  length  had  the  satisfaction  of  receiving  a letter  from 
the  Pretor  of  Frige n to.  (Italy)  that  Davino  had  been  arrested 
there — his  native  town.  A watch  had  been  found  upon  him  which 
was  identified  as  having  been  the  property  of  Ciampi ; and  his  own 
daughter  testified  to  having  heard  him  confess  to  her  mother  one 
night  that  he  had  killed  Ciampi.  Davino  was  never  returned  to 
this  country,  but  was,  I believe,  tried  and  convicted  in  Italy,  the 
laws  there  permitting  such  a course. 

With  all  the  numerous  safeguards  which  exist  against  dishon- 
esty in  the  Mint  at  Philadelphia,  I remember  one  instance,  at 
least,  in  which  they  proved  to  be  insufficient ; and  although  every 
effort  was  made  by  Chief  Kelly  and  his  detectives  to  fix  the  re- 
sponsibility, they  were  unable  to  ferret  out  the  thief.  One  after- 
noon, in  the  early  part  of  February,  1885,  Mr.  B.  F.  Cohen,  a 
jeweller,  of  No.  6 Maiden  Lane,  in  this  city,  called  at  the  office 
of  Mr.  Charles  S.  Platt,  assayer  and  refiner,  No.  4 Liberty  Place, 
with  a bar  of  silver,  weighing  seventy  pounds,  stating  that  it  had 
been  sent  him  by  some  parties  in  Philadelphia  to  dispose  of.  Mr. 
Platt  was  well  acquainted  with  Mr.  Cohen,  and  would  undoubt- 
edly have  purchased  the  precious  metal  immediately,  had  he  not 
noticed  the  name  of  the  Omaha  & Grant  Smelting  and  Refining 


570  ADVENTURES  OF  A BAR  OF  SILVER. 

Co.  stamped  upon  it.  This  was  rather  suspicious  to  Mr.  Platt, 
as  he  knew  that  the  silver  of  the  company  mentioned  was  gener- 
ally sold  in  large  quantities — 50,000  ozs.,  or  more  at  a time.  The 
company,  too,  were  in  the  habit  of  numbering  all  the  bars  sold 
by  them,  and  the  number  of  the  one  presented  by  Mr.  Cohen 
was  “ 16,929.”  It  weighed  1023  70-100  ozs.,  and  was  999  fine. 
After  noticing  all  these  things,  Mr.  Platt  said  he  could  not  pur- 
chase the  bar  unless  Clark,  Dodge  & Co.,  the  agents  for  the 
Omaha  Smelting  Co.,  said  it  was  all  right.  A message  was  ac- 
cordingly sent  to  the  firm,  and  on  investigation  it  was  found 
that  the  bar  in  question  had  been  sold  some  time  previously 
to  the  well-known  bankers,  J.  & W.  Seligman  & Co.,  who  declared 
that,  with  a number  of  others,  it  had  been  purchased  by  the  Gov- 
ernment and  delivered  at  the  Philadelphia  Mint.  The  Messrs. 
Seligman  said  they  had  been  paid,  and  had  also  received  an  offi- 
cial notification  that  all  was  correct.  That  notification  was  dated 
January  24th  and  yet  up  to  February  13th  the  bar  of  silver  in  the 
possession  of  Mr.  Cohen  had  not  been  missed  from  the  Philadel- 
phia Mint.  The  matter  was  reported  to  me  and  a telegram  to 
the  authorities  at  the  Mint  made  them  acquainted  with  the  theft 
for  the  first  time.  How  a bar  of  solid  silver,  weighing  over 
eighty-five  pounds,  could  be  carried  out  of  the  Mint  without  detec- 
tion, is  beyond  my  comprehension  ; but  the  fact  remains  that  it 
was  stolen,  and  that  the  thief  was  never  discovered.  A saloon-keep- 
er named  Hugh  Daly,  who  kept  a place  on  South  Street,  was  ar- 
rested by  Chief  Kelly  on  suspicion  of  being  concerned  in  the  affair ; 
but  nothing  could  be  proved  against  him,  and  he  was  discharged. 

I might  fill  a volume,  if  I chose  to  give  a detailed  account  of 
the  many  excellent  services  rendered,  not  only  the  city  of  Phila- 
delphia, but  the  country  at  large,  by  Chief  Kelly.  It  will  be 
remembered  that  in  1882  there  was  considerable  excitement  in 
England  over  what  was  known  as  “ the  dynamite  scare.”  A num- 
ber of  so-called  “ infernal  machines,”  had  been  shipped  to  Eng- 
land, where  they  were  seized.  It  was  discovered  that  they  had 
been  manufactured  in  this  country,  and  the  English  Government 
communicated  with  Minister  West  upon  the  subject,  authorizing 
him  to  take  what  steps  might  be  necessary  for  unearthing  the 
makers.  It  should  be  stated  that  previous  to  this,  Sir  Stafford 
Northcote  (later  Lord  Iddesleigh)  had  offered  a reward  of  $10,000 
for  reliable  information  upon  the  subject ; and  it  is  now  known 


HOW  BRITISH  OFFICIALS  WERE  “SOLD.  ” 57  I 

that  the  sum  mentioned  was  actually  paid,  but  to  whom  has  never 
been  made  public.  In  accordance  with  his  instructions,  Minister 
West  secured  the  services  of  Chief  Kelly,  then  a secret  agent  of 
the  U.  S.  Government,  and  also  those  of  Detective  Gilkinson. 
They  received  from  England  the  very  barrel  in  which  the  machines 
were  packed,  and  also  one  of  the  machines  themselves.  The  work 
of  investigation  was  long  and  tiresome,  occupying  over  nine  months’ 
time  and  leading  the  two  officers  along  the  whole  line  of  coast, 
from  the  Gulf  to  Maine.  They  found  that  the  barrel  had  been 
made  in  Philadelphia,  and  that  the  infernal  machines  were  the 
productions  of  a man  named  Holgate,  who  then  resided  at  No.  1502 
South  Juniper  Street.  This  machine  was  nothing  more  than  an 
ordinary  zinc  canister,  about  four  inches  square  at  the  ends  and 
twelve  inches  high.  The  “ works  ” were  simply  common  clock 
works,  and,  it  was  ascertained,  had  been  furnished  by  an  indi- 
vidual doing  business  on  Eighth  Street.  As  to  the  explosives  with 
which  the  machines  were  said  to  be  filled,  their  contents,  on  close 
examination,  turned  out  to  be  harmless  gypsum  powder,  which  had 
been  obtained  from  the  ruins  of  an  old  factory  at  Gray’s  Ferry 
Road  and  the  Schuylkill  river.  It  also  transpired  that  the  English 
Government  had  paid  the  reward  of  $10,000  to  the  very  parties 
who  had  shipped  these  harmless  infernal  machines  to  London. 
Chief  Kelly  reported  what  he  had  learned  to  Minister  West, 
and  shortly  afterwards  further  investigation  was  ordered  to  cease, 
the  authorities  evidently  having  come  to  the  conclusion  that  they 
had  been  nicely  fooled  by  the  parties  who  had  shipped  the 
machines. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 


JUSTICE’S  JUSTICE  IN  NEW  YORK. — HOW  THE  WHEELS  ARE  “ COGGED.” 

AN  INADEQUATE  JUDICIARY. — EVASION  OF  PUNISHMENT. 

SEVERAL  INSTANCES. “ BUNCO  ” MEN  AND  SWINDLERS. WHY 

THEY  ARE  NOT  BROUGHT  TO  TRIAL. — ROUGH  ON  THE  COMPLAIN- 
ANT.— SEVENTEEN  WEEKS  IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  DETENTION. 

“ FINE  WORK.” SOMETHING  ABOUT  GAMBLERS. NOT  A SINGLE 

HONEST  ONE. WALL  STREET’S  INSATIABLE  MAW. SOLITARY  MR. 

SMITH,  OF  RHODE  ISLAND. WHERE  ALL  THE  MONEY  GOES. 

POLICE  CAPTAINS  SHOULD  BE  MADE  RESPONSIBLE  FOR  THE  EXIST- 
ENCE OF  “HELLS.” — BLACKMAIL  LEVIED  ON  GAMBLING  HOUSES. 
REMEDIES  SUGGESTED. 

The  reader  will  naturally  ask  why  justice  in  New  York  is  very 
often  so  long  delayed  in  the  case  of  the  wealthy  defendant,  and  as 
often  denied  the  poor  complainant.  That  the  wheels  of  the  blind- 
folded goddess’s  car  are  often  “ cogged,  ” is  a fact  beyond  dis- 
pute. How  is  it  that  such  a state  of  things  exists ; and  to  what  is 
all  the  more  than  suspicious  laxity  in  the  enforcement  of  the  laws 
and  the  proper  administration  of  justice  to  be  attributed  ? Any  one 
at  all  conversant  with  the  workings  of  the  lex  mechanico  in  our  city, 
will  at  once  perceive  the  difficulty  of  answering  such  a question 
in  an  off-hand  manner. 

Take,  for  instance,  violations  of  the  excise  law  ; they  are  numer- 
ous enough ; arrests  are  made  every  day,  and  yet  one  very  rarely 
hears  of  a liquor  dealer  being  sent  to  prison.  Why,  I suppose  I 
should  not  be  far  wrong  in  saying  that  there  are  anywhere  from 
eighteen  to  twenty  thousand  complaints  against  parties  for  viola- 
tions of  the  terms  of  their  licenses  now  on  file  in  the  District 
Attorney’s  office.  They  have  been  accumulating  there  in  the  pig- 
eon-holes for  years  and  years ; most  of  them  are  covered  with  dust 
and  many  of  them  are  actually  mouldy  with  age.  A violator  of  the 
excise  law  is  arrested  ; he  gives  bail  and  elects  to  be  tried  by 
a jury  in  the  General  Sessions.  This  he  has  a perfect  right  to  do. 
The  consequence  is  that  the  facilities  for  trying  such  cases  be 

572 


A VAST  ACCUMULATION  OF  COMPLAINTS. 


573 


come  peculiarly  inadequate ; and  the  District  Attorney,  in  the 
very  nature  of  things,  cannot  prevent  the  vast  accumulation  of 
papers  to  which  I have  previously  referred.  He  is  obliged  to  try 
what  are  known  as  “ prison  cases,”  such  as  murder,  manslaughter, 
burglary  and  other  crimes  against  person  or  property.  If  these 
cases  were  not  dealt  with,  and  the  time  of  the  court  were  occupied 
with  liquor,  gambling  and  lottery  cases,  a man,  charged  with  a 
serious  offence,  who  has  been  in  jail  a certain  length  of  time  with- 
out being  brought  up  for  trial,  would  have  a right  to  demand  his 
discharge.  Unless,  therefore,  our  judicial  machinery — the  number 
of  courts  as  well  as  the  number  of  judges — is  increased,  this  evil 
in  our  system  of  justice  will  never  be  regulated  or  decreased. 
Even  supposing  an  offender  is  brought  to  trial,  and  a conviction 
ensues  — and  this  has  happened  now  and  then  — political  and 
other  influences  are  invoked,  and  the  culprit  is  pardoned.  Let  me 
give  an  instance  or  two.  The  case  of  Thomas  Doyle,  of  No.  87 
Third  Avenue,  charged  with  a violation  of  the  excise  law,  came 
up  in  the  Court  of  General  Sessions  on  Oct.  4,  1878,  before  Re- 
corder Hackett,  who  imposed  a sentence  of  thirty  days’  imprison- 
ment in  the  Penitentiary.  Doyle’s  counsel  at  once  procured  a 
writ  of  habeas  corpus , the  arguments  on  which,  however,  were  ad- 
journed from  time  to  time  over  a space  of  two  weeks.  Doyle  was 
a prominent  and  powerful  politician,  and  among  his  friends  were 
Major  J.  W.  Saner  and  Councillor  F.  Rand,  who  proceeded  to 
Albany  while  these  arguments  were  pending  before  the  courts, 
had  an  interview  with  Governor  Robinson  and  procured  a pardon 
for  Doyle  ! Comment  is  needless. 

Then  there  was  the  case  of  Jacob  Berry,  proprietor  of  the  infa- 
mous Columbia  Opera  House,  which  stood  on  the  corner  of 
Twelfth  and  Greenwich  streets,  which  was  raided  some  time  in 
March,  1878.  After  many  delays,  Berry  was  sentenced  to  eight 
months’  imprisonment  in  the  Penitentiary.  The  case  was  taken 
on  an  appeal  to  the  Supreme  Court,  but  the  decision  of  the  lower 
court  was  affirmed  by  Judges  Davis  and  Ingalls,  Judge  Brady  dis- 
senting. The  Court  of  Appeals  at  Albany  was  then  applied  to, 
but  with  a like  result,  and  the  papers  were  returned  to  District 
"Attorney  Phelps.  Berry,  however,  remained  at  liberty ; the  rea- 
son he  was  not  brought  up  for  sentence,  so  I was  informed,  being 
that  a recommendation  for  his  pardon  had  been  presented  to 
Governor  Robinson.  And  sure  enough,  on  the  9th  of  June,  a par- 


574 


UNWILLINGNESS  OF  JURIES  TO  CONVICT. 


don  was  granted,  political  influence  having  evidently  been  brought 
to  bear  in  certain  quarters.  Then,  again,  Phillip  Cantlan,  No.  39 
Washington  Street,  indicted  in  1878  for  violation  of  the  excise  law, 
has  appeared  ten  or  fifteen  times  in  court,  but  on  each  occasion 
the  case  has  been  adjourned,  and  nothing  has  yet  come  of  the 
complaint. 

The  common  run  of  juries,  too,  if  they  think  a severe  sen- 
tence is  going  to  follow  a verdict  of  guilty,  are  unwilling  to  convict 
in  cases  where  the  offence  charged  is  a violation  of  the  excise  law. 
In  July,  1879,  a man  named  Julius  Kohler  was  convicted  of  such 
an  offence,  and  was  thereupon  sentenced  by  Judge  Cowing  to 
thirty  days’  imprisonment  in  the  City  Prison.  A regular  howl 
went  up  from  those  in  the  court-room  when  they  heard  the  sen- 
tence, and  the  foreman  of  the  jury  informed  Judge  Cowing  that 
had  he  and  his  fellow  jurymen  known  so  severe  a sentence  would 
have  been  imposed,  they  would  not  have  returned  a verdict  of 
guilty ; and  yet  this  Kohler’s  place  was  one  of  the  worst  possi- 
ble character,  and  the  evidence  against  him  overwhelming. 

The  reasons  why  “ bunco  ” men  and  swindlers  of  a somewhat 
similar  nature  are  not  convicted  as  a general  rule,  although  com- 
plaints against  such  characters  are  numerous,  are  somewhat  differ- 
ent. The  victim,  in  nearly  every  instance,  is  a resident  of  some 
other  city  or  State.  The  magistrate  before  whom  the  parties  are 
taken  holds  both  complainant  and  defendant  for  examination,  fix- 
ing bail  at  the  amount  required  bylaw.  The  procuring  of  a bonds- 
man is  an  easy  matter  with  the  sharper;  but  with  the  poor  victim 
it  is  different.  Failing  to  furnish  the  requisite  security  for  his  ap- 
pearance, he  is  bundled  off  to  the  House  of  Detention. 

As  an  instance  of  tfte  injustice  committed  in  this  way  let  me 
give  just  one  sample,  the  records  of  which  are  before  me.  It 
is  the  first  that  came  to  hand,  although  I could  mention  dozens 
of  a similar  nature.  A young  man  named  N.  T.  Fox  (never  mind 
what  his  business,  or  where  he  came  from  ; but  the  name  is  gen- 
uine) visited  that  notorious  gambling  house,.  No.  15  Ann  Street, 
some  time  in  February,  1880.  In  one  evening  he  lost  as  much  as 
$ 1000 , and  the  next  morning  came  to  me  with  his  story,  saying 
that  all  he  cared  about  was  to  get  his  money  back.  At  my  request 
he  made  an  affidavit  as  to  the  facts,  and  that  same  night  the  place 
was  raided.  Peter  DeLacy  was  the  proprietor  of  this  “ hell,  ” and 
was  arrested.  Upon  being  taken  before  a police  magistrate,  he 


FINE  WORK. 


575 


<( 


gave  bail  and  was  allowed  to  go  at  liberty,  while  Fox,  the  com- 
plainant, was  sent  to  the  House  of  Detention,  and  held  as  a wit- 
ness. Time  and  time  again  were  efforts  made,  at  my  direction,  to 
have  the  case  tried,  but  in  every  instance  DeLacy’s  counsel,  by 
some  means  or  other,  which  I have  never  been  enabled  to  fathom, 
managed  to  have  it  adjourned.  Finally,  in  October,  after  no  less 
than  seventeen  weeks’  imprisonment  in  the  House  of  Detention, 
Fox  was  set  at  liberty,  the  only  explanation  given  him  being  that 
the  case  would  come  up  some  time  or  other,  and  that  he  would  be 
notified.  In  April,  1881,  District  Attorney  Phelps  was  asked  to 
place  the  case  against  DeLacy  on  the  calendar.  This  he  refused 
to  do,  giving  as  his  reason  that  DeLacy  had  “ gone  out  of  busi- 
ness.” ‘And  yet  No.  15  Ann  Street  has  long  been  known  to  be 
one  of  the  worst  places  in  the  city.  True,  DeLacy  may  not  be  the 
proprietor  in  the  eye  of  the  law,  but  he  hung  round  the  place 
most  of  his  time. 

It  is  when  the  complainant  is  about  to  be  sent  to  the  House  of 
Detention  that  the  friends  of  the  swindlers  get  in  their  “fine  work,” 
as  it  is  termed ; that  is,  they  make  overtures  to  the  complainant ; 
they  point  out  the  inconvenience  it  is,  to  say  nothing  of  the  un- 
pleasantness, to  remain  incarcerated,  when  by  merely  promising 
to  go  to  his  home  and  not  appear  against  the  accused  on  the  day 
of  trial,  a bondsman  will  be  procured,  the  money  of  which  he  was 
despoiled  will  be  returned,  and  there  will  be  no  further  bother 
about  it.  Of  course  the  complainant  is  only  too  glad  of  the  chance. 
He  gives  the  required  promise,  a bondsman  is  supplied,  he  leaves 
the  city  or  State,  and  there’s  an  end  of  the  matter. 

It  is  not  very  likely  that  the  aggrieved  party,  having  received 
back  his  own,  is  going  to  remain  in  the  city  at  considerable  ex- 
pense, to  say  nothing  of  the  inconvenience,  in  a business  point  of 
view.  He  therefore  goes  home,  and  there  is  no  legal  power  which 
can  compel  the  attendance  of  a person  in  another  State  as  a wit- 
ness here. 

And  now,  although  I have  alluded  to  the  subject  of  gambling  in 
a previous  chapter,  I have  something  more  to  say  in  that  connec- 
tion. It  has  always  been  a popular  delusion  that  somewhere  or 
other,  and  at  some  time  or  other,  there  has  existed  an  honest 
professional  gambler.  I don’t  believe  it.  During  my  whole  ex- 
perience I never  met  with  such  an  one.  They  don’t  all  of  them 
steal,  however,  because  they  find  it  pays  them  better  to  live  by 


576 


WALL  STREET  GAMBLING. 


gambling.  But  all  the  gambling  that  goes  on  in  the  City  of 
New  York  is  not  confined  to  the  playing  of  cards  and  the  bet- 
ting on  horse  races,  etc.  Wall  Street  itself  is  nothing  more  nor 
less  than  an  immense  gambling  concern,  and  among  the  many 
defaulters  for  large  amounts,  who  have  from  time  to  time  been 
brought  before  me,  nine-tenths  of  them  have  admitted  that  their 
social  and  moral  ruin  had  been  brought  about  by  speculating  in 
Wall  Street.  How  many  retire  from  it  with  a fortune  ? Very  few. 
Only  a short  time  since,  in  the  course  of  conversation  with  the 
head  of  one  of  the  largest  firms  of  brokers  in  this  country,  the 
question  was  asked  how  many  men,  of  all  the  thousands  who  were 
constantly  investing  money  in  stocks,  etc.,  through  his  agency,  re- 
tired from  the  “ street  ” possessed  of  more  than  they  had  put  into  it. 
“ A few,”  said  he. 

“ Can  you  give  me  an  instance  ? ” * 

He  hesitated,  thought  awhile,  and  finally  admitted  that  he  could 
not  recall  any  just  then.  His  chief  clerk,  who  was  standing  near, 
listening  to  our  conversation,  remarked  : 

“ Yes  ; I remember  there  was  Smith,  of  Rhode  Island,  who  made 
$30,000  through  us,  and  then  retired  from  the  city  to  his  farm.” 
“ Do  you  remember  any  one  else  ? ” was  the  next  inquiry. 

He  did  not — could  not  recall  a single  other  instance. 

So  I asked  further  concerning  this  wonderful  Mr.  Smith : 

“ How  long  ago  was  it  that  Smith  left  the  * street  ’ with  his 
$30,000?” 

“ About  a year  and  a half,”  was  the  reply  of  the  head  clerk. 
“ And  I’m  perfectly  confident,”  added  the  head  of  the  firm,  “ that 
Mr.  Smith  will  return  to  Wall  Street  and  lose  it  all.” 

Seeking  further  enlightenment  on  the  matter,  I inquired  of 
another  leading  broker  as  to  how  many  of  his  customers  made 
money  in  the  long  run  by  their  speculations.  He  told  me  that  not 
one  did ; and  to  back  up  his  assertion  he  stated  that  only  a short 
time  previously  he  had  gone  over  the  books  with  his  account- 
ant. The  result  of  his  investigations,  covering  a number  of 
years,  showed  millions  to  the  debit  of  the  customers,  balanced 
almost  entirely  by  commissions  paid  to  the  broker.  Think  of 
it.  Of  all  the  thousands  and  thousands  who  had  marched  into 
the  offices  of  these  two  large  firms,  there  was  only  this  solitary 
Smith  who  had  retired  with  more  money  than  when  he  went  in ! 
Who  gets  these  untold  millions  that  are  being  constantly  poured 


GAMBLERS  ASSESSED  BY  THE  POLICE. 


57  7 


into  Wall  Street’s  insatiable  maw  ? It  finds  its  way,  partly  into  the 
pockets  of  those  who,  when  they  die,  leave  fortunes  of  hundreds 
of  millions  ; and  partly  to  brokers,  whose  legitimate  commissions 
sometimes  amount  to  as  much  as  a million  dollars  a year.  If 
this  is  not  gambling,  I should  like  to  know  what  is. 

Apart  from  Wall  Street,  however,  it  will,  of  course,  be  of  no  use 
for  me  to  attempt  to  deny,  even  if  I had  the  desire,  that  during  my 
term  of  office  as  superintendent,  this  great  and  crying  evil  was  in 
a flourishing  condition.  Under  the  present  system,  too,  it  can  and 
will  never  be  otherwise.  The  suppression  of  gambling  of  every 
description,  under  the  present  form  of  police  government,  does 
not,  by  any  means,  lie  with  the  superintendent.  It  is  wholly  and 
solely  within  the  power  of  the  captains  of  the  various  precincts. 
I do  not  mean  to  say  that  they  can  put  a stop  to  poker  parties,  etc., 
in  private  residences  ; but  having  occupied  the  position  of  captain 
myself  for  a number  of  years,  it  may  be  justly  supposed  I know 
something  about  the  matter.  This  I do  know  : that  when  first 
appointed  captain,  I was  called  upon  by  a professional  gambler, 
who  asked  for  permission  to  open  a gambling  house  in  my  pre- 
cinct. I refused  him  in  language  more  forcible  than  polite,  and 
he  was  wise  enough  to  think  I meant  what  I said,  and  therefore  did 
not  invest  any  money  in  such  a venture  as  proposed.  There  were 
no  public  gaming  houses  in  my  precinct,  and  it  is  within  the  power 
of  every  captain  to  order  the  same  state  of  things.  It  is  an  utter 
impossibility  for  a public  gambling  house  to  exist  in  any  precinct 
for  a length  of  time,  without  the  connivance,  direct  or  indirect,  of  the 
captain.  While  I have  no  positive  personal  knowledge  on  the  sub- 
ject, still  I am  morally  convinced  in  my  own  mind,  that  the  great 
majority  of  gambling  establishments  in  this  city  have  in  the  past, 
and  do  even  now,  pay  for  the  privilege  of  being  allowed  to  conduct 
their  business  without  being  molested.  The  only  possible  way  in 
which  such  a state  of  things  as  this  can  be  remedied,  is  by  making 
every  captain  directly  responsible  for  the  condition  of  his  precinct 
in  this  regard;  instant -dismissal  to  follow  the  existence  of  a pub- 
lic gambling  house. 

But,  after  all,  the  only  way  in  which  to  obtain  a fair,  just  and 
thorough  enforcement  of  the  law  by  the  police,  is  to  separate  the 
force  entirely  from  politics.  Have  but  one  commissioner  with  un- 
limited power,  independent  of  any  or  every  political  clique.  Four 
police  commissioners  are  just  about  as  much  use  as  if  we  had  four 
37 


578  FULLER  POWERS  FOR  THE  SUPERINTENDENT. 

mayors.  The  superintendent,  for  his  part,  should  have  power  com 
mensurate  with  his  responsibility. 

Just  think  of  it ! Prior  to  the  year  1882,  the  police  commission- 
ers had  the  power  to  remove  me  from  the  office  of  superintendent 
by  a simple  vote  at  one  of  their  meetings.  Why,  my  position  was 
more  unstable  in  that  respect  than  that  of  any  other  member  of 
the  force — from  inspectors  down  to  door-men,  who  had  the  right 
of  demanding  written  charges,  and  of  being  heard  in  their  own 
defence.  Time  and  time  again  have  I attempted,  one  way  or 
another,  to  have  fuller  power  placed  in  my  hands,  but  for  the 
last  four  years  during  which  I was  superintendent,  my  position  was 
that  of  a mere  figure-head.  What  I claim  is,  that  a man  who  is 
held  responsible  for  the  actions  of  certain  subordinates  in  any 
public  department,  should  have  absolute  control  over  those  under 
him  as  to  assignment  and  transfer. 


CHAPTER  XLII. 


THE  “ SOCIAL  EVIL  ” AGAIN. HOW  TO  CLEAR  A RESPECTABLE 

NEIGHBORHOOD. A NOVEL  PLAN. — CAPTAINS  NOT  UNAWARE 

OF  ILLEGAL  RESORTS  IN  THEIR  PRECINCTS. “FIXED  UP  ” RE- 
PORTS.   MISREPRESENTATIONS  WHICH  HAVE  OCCURRED.  

BLACKMAILING  BY  DETECTIVES.  HOW  I CAUGHT  THE  OF- 
FENDERS.   A STORY  WITH  AN  INTERESTING  SEQUEL.  

“ PLIN  ” WHITE’S  WONDERFUL  CAREER. — HOW  HE  WENT  HOME 
TO  DIE. 

In  connection  with  the  problem  of  how  to  deal  with  the  “ social 
evil,”  one  incident  recurs  to  mind,  which  happened  when  I was 
captain  of  the  Eighteenth  Ward.  Complaints  were  made  to  me 
by  certain  residents  in  a decidedly  respectable  neighborhood  to 
the  effect  that  a house  of  assignation  had  been  started  in  their 
very  midst  by  a notorious  woman.  How  could  they  be  ridded  of 
her  company  ? Some  sort  of  a self-appointed  committee,  I was 
informed,  had  waited  upon  the  female  in  question,  and  had  offered 
to  pay  her  quite  a considerable  sum  of  money  — something  over 
$1000 — if  she  would  remove  from  the  locality.  The  “ strange 
woman,  ” however,  was  obdurate.  $ 2000 , or  nothing,  she  said,  was 
what  she  wanted.  This,  in  the  opinion  of  the  deputation  was  not 
only  more  than  they  cared  to  give,  but  was  more  than  their  cash 
in  hand  amounted  to.  Could  I aid  them  in  any  way,  so  as  to  rid 
the  locality  of  the  disgrace  of  having  a house  of  such  a character 
right  in  its  very  midst?  None  of  them  were  willing  to  go  so  far  as 
to  make  the  scandal  worse  by  making  a complaint  against  the  ob- 
jectionable female  in  the  courts,  and  the  question  was  an  open 
one  as  to  how  I should  get  her  to  move.  After  considerable 
cogitation  I at  length  hit  upon  a plan  which  I thought  would  be 
successful  in  attaining  the  desired  end.  By  my  orders  an  officer 
in  plain  clothes  was  stationed  in  front  of  the  house  in  question  all 
the  time,  both  day  and  night.  Anyone— whether  male  or  female 
— who  was  about  to  enter  the  premises,  was  accosted  with  the 

579 


580  HOW  LISTS  OF  IMMORAL  RESORTS  ARE  “ COOKED.  ” 

remark  (accompanied  at  night  by  a flash  from  the  officer’s  dark 
lantern): — 

“ Beg  your  pardon,  but  the  captain  is  going  to  ‘ pull  ’ this  house, 
and  if  you  take  my  advice  you  will  not  go  inside.” 

In  almost  every  single  instance  the  intended  visit  was  indefi- 
nitely postponed,  and  as  a natural  consequence  the  woman  very 
quickly  found  it  would  be  to  her  advantage  to  seek  fresh  fields 
and  pastures  new. 

This  method  may  not  have  been  a strictly  legal  one,  but  it  at 
least  possessed  the  merit  of  being  sure  in  its  result,  which  is  more 
than  can  be  said  of  a resort  to  a court  of  law.  As  a general  rule, 
juries  have  something  almost  amounting  to  an  aversion  to  convict 
in  such  cases,  and  especially  is  this  so  when  the  jury  is  made  up 
largely  of  elderly  men  ; they  seem  to  sympathize,  strangely  enough, 
with  the  elegantly  accoutred  and  apparently  repentant  Delilah, 
who  sometimes  sheds  “ crocodile  ” tears,  or  else  looks  as  prim  and 
demure  as  a Puritan  maiden  fresh  from  the  “ Mayflower.  ” 

And  while  writing  upon  this  matter,  it  may  be  as  well  to  let  the 
public  become  acquainted  with  the  fact  that  in  each  precinct  sta- 
tion-house a private  list  is  kept  of  all  the  houses  of  assignation, 
gambling  resorts,  policy-shops,  etc.,  a copy  of  which  is  also  to  be 
found  at  police  headquarters.  These  lists  are  constantly  being 
revised  from  time  to  time,  as  reports  are  made  by  patrolmen  and 
detectives,  and  it  is  all  nonsense  for  a captain  to  declare  that  he 
is  unaware  of  the  existence  of  an  illegal  or  immoral  resort  in  his 
precinct  until  it  has  been  brought  to  his  notice  by  private  citizens, 
who  have  known  of  it  for  a longer  or  a shorter,  period.  It  has 
happened — and  more  than  once,  too — that  curious  and  inexcusable 
blunders  have  been  made  by  captains  in  writing  out  their  lists. 
An  energetic  mayor  or  spasmodically  moral  police  commissioner 
will  call  for  a list  in  a hurry,  and  one  is  “ cooked  ” for  the  occa- 
sion, in  the  almost  certain  conviction  that  no  investigation  will  be 
made  as  to  its  correctness,  or  otherwise.  Now  and  then,  however, 
as  I happen  to  know,  such  a captain  reckons  without  his  host.  In 
one  list  which  came  to  my  knowledge,  submitted  by  a certain  cap- 
tain who  shall  be  nameless,  a couple  of  residences  were  set  down 
as  gambling  houses.  Officers  were,  sent  to  investigate  privately. 
One  of  the  so-called  gambling  houses  turned  out  to  be  occupied 
by  the  widow  of  one  of  our  most  distinguished  generals  during  the 
Rebellion — a lady  of  undoubted  culture,  refinement  and  upright- 
ness of  character  ! The  other  house  was  vacant. 


SYSTEMATICALLY  BLACKMAILED.  58 1 

In  another  chapter  I have  alluded  to  the  difficulty  experienced 
by  a chief  of  police  in  convicting  his  officers  of  blackmail  on 
offenders  against  the  law.  I remember  an  incident,  however,  which 
occurred  while  I was  an  inspector  under  Superintendent  Kennedy, 
and  which  is  worthy  of  being  related  in  this  connection.  A man 
walked  into  the  office  one  day,  and  without  any  preliminaries  said 
to  Mr.  Kennedy : “ Chief,  I’m  a pickpocket,  and  have  been  sys- 
tematically blackmailed  by  two  of  your  detectives  (giving  their 
names),  and  now  they  threaten  to  arrest  me  if  I don’t  comply  with 
their  demands.” 

Mr.  Kennedy,  as  was  but  natural,  in  view  of  the  fact  that  the 
detectives  in  question  had  been  many  years  on  the  force  and  bore 
excellent  characters,  expressed  his  disbelief  in  the  man’s  assertion. 

“ Well,”  said  the  self-confessed  pickpocket,  “ I don’t  want  you 
to  believe  my  simple  statement.  I didn’t  expect  you  would ; but 
if  you  have  some  honest  man  in  whom  you  have  implicit  confi- 
dence, and  will  send  him  with  me  to-morrow,  when  I’m  to  meet 
them  again,  I’ll  prove  to  your  satisfaction  that  what  I say  is  true.” 

Mr.  Kennedy  accordingly  sent  for  me,  and  I had  a long  talk 
with  the  thief.  I myself  doubted  his  story,  but  he  stated  the  facts 
so  circumstantially  that  I concluded  to  investigate  the  matter  thor- 
oughly. He  told  me  that  he  had  met  the  officers  the  night  pre- 
vious and  that  they  had  demanded  a certain  sum  of  money  from 
him.  He  told  them  he  had  not  that  much  in  his  pocket,  but  gave 
them  all  he  had,  promising  to  furnish  the  remainder  on  the  follow- 
ing day.  After  listening  attentively  to  the  man’s  story,  I furnished 
him  with  a worthless  bill  on  a broken  bank,  writing  on  the  back  of 
it  “ George  W.  Walling,  Inspector  of  Police.”  We  also  arranged 
a neat  little  plot,  having  in  view  the  capture  of  the  detectives  red- 
handed,  as  it  were,  the  details  of  which  will  appear  hereafter.  The 
next  day  I followed  the  man  to  Thirteenth  Street,  where  he  said 
he  was  to  meet  the  officers.  He  ensconced  himself  in  a doorway, 
while  I seated  myself  on  the  shafts  of  a convenient  cart,  which 
stood  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street,  with  an  old  slouch  hat 
drawn  down  over  my  face  somewhat.  Very  shortly  afterwards  the 
detectives  appeared  on  the  scene,  shook  hands  with  the  pickpocket, 
and  after  some  little  conversation  the  money  was  handed  over  to 
one  of  them,  who  placed  it  in  his  overcoat  pocket.  Both  then 
walked  away  in  the  direction  of  Fourteenth  Street,  where,  followed 
by  me,  they  entered  a saloon.  Keeping  close  at  their  heels,  I also 


5»2 


what’ll  you  take  ? ” 


went  into  the  place.  They  were  standing  at  the  bar,  and  were  just 
ordering  something  to  drink. 

“ What’ll  you  take  ? ” said  one  to  the  other. 

He  was  the  fellow  who  had  taken  the  money  from  the  pick 
pocket,  so  I stepped  up  to  him  and  put  my  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

Said  I,  “ I’ll  take  the  money  that  thief  has  just  given  you.” 

The  effect  on  him  was  wonderful.  He  jumped  away  from  me, 
and  his  face  grew  pale,  as  he  replied  : 

“ What  do  you  mean,  Walling  ? No  thief  has  given  me  any 
money.” 

“ He  has,  though,”  I persisted.  “ I want  it,  too,  and  am  going 
to  have  it.  If  you  don’t  produce  it  immediately  I’ll  throw  you  on 
the  floor  and  take  it  from  you  by  main  force,”  saying  which  I 
stepped  quickly  to  the  other  side  of  him,  put  my  hand  in  his 
pocket,  and  pulled  out  the  worthless  bill  which  the  pickpocket 
had  given  him.  I showed  him  my  signature  on  the  back,  and 
observed  : 

“ See  what  an  egregious  ass  you  have  been.”  • 

“ For  God’s  sake,  Walling,  don’t  give  me  away,”  he  said,  implor- 
ingiy. 

But  I had  my  duty  to  perform,  and  telling  them  I should  report 
the  circumstances  to  Supt.  Kennedy,  walked  down  town  in  the  di- 
rection of  headquarters.  They  followed  me  as  far  as  the  Cooper 
Institute,  begging  me  to  let  up  on  them.  However,  I related  my 
story  to  Mr.  Kennedy.  The  detectives  could  offer  no  excuse  for 
their  conduct ; they  could  only  beg  not  to  be  publicly  exposed. 
No  doubt  they  deserved  to  have  been  indicted  by  the  Grand  Jury  , 
but  in  consideration  of  their  many  years  of  service  and  previous 
good  behavior,  Mr.  Kennedy  finally  gave  them  permission  to  hand 
in  their  resignations.  This  they  did  at  once,  and  that  was  the  last 
heard  of  the  matter. 

Another  similar  case  with  which  I was  connected,  was  the  out- 
come of  a complaint  made  to  Supt.  Kennedy  by  Mr.  Robert  Mur- 
ray, United  States  Marshal,  to  the  effect  that  some  of  the  detec- 
tive force  were  in  the  habit  of  blackmailing  certain  criminals. 

In  his  impulsive,  off-hand  manner,  Capt.  Kennedy  at  once  ex- 
claimed : 

“ I don’t  believe  a word  of  it.” 

“ If  you  will  do  as  I say,  Mr.  Kennedy,  I’ll  prove  it  to  you,” 
was  Mr.  Murray’s  rejoinder. 


5»3 


“ SPONGING  ” ON  A THIEF. 

“If  you  can  I’ll  be  very  glad  to  have  you  do  so,”  replied  the 
superintendent,  and  Marshal  Murray  at  once  unfolded  his  plan. 

In  accordance  with  that  plan  Mr.  Kennedy  sent  for  Capt. 
Bowen  G.  Lord,  of  the  sanitary  squad,  and  myself,  and  gave  us 
our  instructions. 

We  were  told  that  a well-known  thief,  named  Hyer,  had  in- 
formed the  “ super  ” that  certain  detectives  were  in  the  habit  of 
“ sponging  ” on  him  for  money,  and  that  he  had  agreed  to  meet 
one  of  them  that  evening  in  a little  yard  in  the  rear  of  the  Metro- 
politan Hotel,  near  the  corner  of  Prince  and  Crosby  streets,  for  the 
purpose  of  paying  him  something.  Lord  and  myself  accordingly 
stationed  ourselves  in  a stable  on  the  opposite  corner,  and  watched 
through  the  window  for  anything  which  might  transpire.  Very 
shortly,  the  man  Hyer  came  along  and  seated  himself  very  com- 
fortably upon  a hydrant,  whistling  softly  to  himself  in  an  uncon- 
cerned and  haven’ t-got-a-care-in-the-world  manner. 

I should  have  previously  stated,  however,  that  earlier  in  the  day 
Superintendent  Kennedy  had  sent  for  Capt.  John  Young,  who 
was  then  in  charge  of  the  detective  force,  and  informed  him  that 
if  any  of  his  men  were  engaged  in  the  affair  they  would  most 
assuredly  be  caught.  One  would  have  thought  that  with  such  a 
warning  as  this  none  of  the  detectives  would  have  been  foolhardy 
enough  to  keep  the  appointment  with  the  man  Hyer.  But  it 
proved  otherwise. 

Hyer  had  been  seated  on  the  hydrant,  as  before  related,  about 
a quarter  of  an  hour,  when  a well-known  detective  approached 
him,  and,  standing  as  he  did,  right  under  the  lamp-post,  everything 
that  passed  was  seen  by  Capt.  Lord  and  myself.  The  conver- 
sation which  passed  between  the  two  was  inaudible,  but  we  dis- 
tinctly saw  Hyer  pass  something  to  the  detective,  who  immedi- 
ately placed  it  in  his  waistcoat  pocket,  and  then  walked  rapidly 
away  in  the  direction  of  Broadway.  Lord  and  I followed,  and 
just  as  the  detective  was  in  front  of  Niblo’s  Garden  I accosted  him 
with  : 

“ Good  evening, , I’m  very  sorry  you  did  that.” 

“ Did  what?  ” he  asked  with  an  air  of  astonishment  which  I’m 
certain  was  not  assumed,  as  he  did  not  dream  of  his  little  transac- 
tion with  Hyer  having  been  overlooked. 

“Why,  take  the  money  from  that  thief  Hyer,”  I replied.  “Give 
it  to  me.  You  put  it  in  your  right-hand  vest  pocket.” 


584 


“ HOLD  OUT  YOUR  HANDS.” 


Without  a word,  he  handed  me  the  money  then  and  there.  Mr. 
Kennedy  was  waiting  rather  impatiently  in  his  office  to  hear  the 
result  of  our  inquiries,  hoping  to  hear  that  the  charge  against  the 
detective  was  unfounded.  I told  him  the  facts  and  laid  the  money 
on  the  desk.  The  detective  was  present,  and  turning  to  him  he 
simply  said  : 

“Just  write  out  your  resignation.” 

The  detective  retired  to  the  waiting-room,  wrote  it,  and  return- 
ing in  a few  minutes,  handed  it  to  the  superintendent. 

And  now  for  the  sequel,  which  is  more  interesting  and  instruc- 
tive in  a certain  way  than  the  story  itself. 

Hyer,  who  was  said  to  have  reformed,  became  the  proprietor  of 
a liquor  saloon  in  the  Eighth  Ward,  and  appeared  to  be  doing  a 
good  business.  One  day,  some  months  after  the  events  previously 
narrated,  Captain  John  Jourdan,  who  subsequently  succeeded  Mr. 
Kennedy  as  superintendent,  walked  into  Hyer’s  saloon,  accom- 
panied by  one  or  two  others. 

“ Hold  out  your  hands,”  was  Jourdan’s  command. 

Hyer  did  so.  Click ! and  the  handcuffs  were  on  his  wrists. 
“ Having  counterfeit  money  in  his  possession  ” was  the  charge. 
It  was  sustained,  too,  by  the  prosecution,  the  witnesses,  if  I re- 
member aright,  testifying  to  finding  base  money  in  his  till  ; and 
Hyer  was  sentenced  to  a long  term  of  imprisonment  in  Sing 
Sing.  Whether  Hyer  was  guilty  or  not  I have  no  means  of 
judging.  I have  simply  given  the  facts  and  leave  the  reader  to 
draw  his  own  conclusions.  But  there  is  something  I had  almost 
forgotten,  which  is  that  the  detective  to  whom  Hyer  was  seen  to 
pay  the  money  was  an  especial  friend  of  Captain  Jourdan,  and 
served  under  him  as  a patrolman  in  the  Sixth  Precinct. 

Away  back  in  the  “ thirties,”  there  resided  in  the  little  town  of 
Wethersfield,  Vt.,  a family  by  the  name  of  White,  consisting  of 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  White  and  two  sons,  one  of  whom  was  named 
“ Plymouth.”  Young  Plymouth  attended  the  village  school,  and 
stored  his  mind  with  such  crumbs  of  learning  as  were  distributed 
in  those  days.  There  was  nothing  remarkable  about  the  lad ; 
his  pursuits  and  amusements  were  about  the  same  as  those  of 
others  of  his  age  and  station  in  life ; there  was  no  indication  of 
the  extraordinary  career  which  it  would  seem  was  his  by  destiny. 
Leaving  school,  Plymouth  White,  still  a mere  boy,  went  to  work 
in  a small  printing-house  in  Montpelier,  the  State  capital.  For 


A NOTORIOUS  CONFIDENCE  MAN. 


5*5 


some  years  he  busied  himself  with  mastering  the  intricacies  of 
the  “ art  preservative  of  all  arts,”  and  then  emigrated  to  Boston. 
There  he  succeeded  in  obtaining  work  as  a compositor  on  the 
Atlas , and  by  his  energy  and  natural  aptitude  for  the  news- 
paper business  soon  managed  to  elevate  himself  to  the  position 
of  editor.  In  this  capacity  he  met  with  no  small  degree  of  suc- 
cess, his  writings  attracting  considerable  attention  in  literary  cir- 
cles. He  was  well  known  among  newspaper  men  generally, 
with  whom  he  was  always  “ hail  fellow,  well  met.”  About  this 
time,  too,  he  became  somewhat  convivial  in  his  habits,  and  was  a 
pretty  frequent  visitor  at  one  or  two  first-class  saloons  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  theatres  and  newspaper  offices.  He  lived  in 
an  expensive  manner,  always  dressed  well,  and  had  quite  a stand- 
ing in  society,  being  on  friendly  and  familiar  terms  with  many  of 
Boston’s  leading  men.  His  salary  was  comparatively  small  for  a 
man  of  his  luxurious  inclinations,  and  the  inevitable  result  followed. 
Finding  himself  short  of  money  he  resorted  to  tricky  methods  of 
“ raising  the  wind,”  and  was  compelled  to  leave  the  “ Hub  ” in 
rather  a hurried  manner. 

And  this  was  the  beginning  of  the  criminal  life  of  “ Plin  ” 
White,  as  he  had  now  come  to  be  called,  the  most  notorious  and 
successful  “ confidence  ” man  that  ever  lived,  the  whole  of  the 
complaints  against  whom  it  would  be  impossible  to  enumerate. 
He  was,  undoubtedly,  the  “ king  pin  ” of  the  great  army  of 
those  who  gain  their  living  by  the  exercise  of  their  wits,  and  those 
who  knew  him  might  truly  have  said : “ We  ne’er  shall  look 
upon  his  like  again.”  In  personal  appearance  he  was  not  unlike 
that  other  great  diplomatist,  Prince  Bismark.  Massive,  regular 
and  striking  features;  deep-set,  resolute  eyes ; high  projecting 
forehead ; mouth  covered  with  white  mustache,  and  his  head 
bald,  with  the  exception  of  a snowy  fringe  of  hair — such  was 
“ Plin  ” White  according  to  his  latest  photograph,  taken  under 
the  auspices  of  the  Boston  police  when  he  was  sixty  years  of  age. 
Earlier  “counterfeit  presentments”  of  him,  however,  depict  him 
as  quite  a slim  young  fellow,  rather  good-looking,  with  black  hair 
and  mustache.  Still,  even  in  his  youthful  days  he  had  more  the 
appearance  of  a young  divinity  student  than  anything  else, 
coupled  with  an  air  of  frankness  and  integrity  which  imposed 
upon  even  those  most  deeply  versed  in  the  ways  of  the  world. 
As  a conversationalist  he  was  both  plausible  and  convincing, 


586  “ PLIN  ” WHITE’S  OPERATIONS. 

while  in  his  manners  he  was  a perfect  gentleman.  With  such  an 
outfit  of  both  mental  and  physical  qualifications,  then,  “ Plin  ” 
commenced  his  career  as  a confidence  man.  Leaving  Boston,  he 
journeyed  “ down  East,”  and  located  himself  in  Bangor,  Me., 
where  he  found  quite  a lucrative  field  for  the  exercise  of  his  pe- 
culiar abilities  as  a swindler.  He  wheedled  himself  into  the  con- 
fidences and  good  graces  of  many  of  the  most  wealthy  business 
men  in  the  town,  and  succeeded  in  making  more  money  in  a 
month  by  his  swindling  operations  than  he  could  in  a whole  year 
by  editing  a newspaper.  It  paid  immensely  ; but  his  quarters  in 
Bangor  soon  became  too  warm  for  him,  and  he  therefore  returned 
to  Boston,  where  he  “ operated  ” on  a rather  more  pretentious 
and  extensive  scale.  Finding  his  abilities  appreciated,  as  it  were, 
“Plin”  came  to  the  conclusion  that  his  greatest  talents  lay  in 
the  cheating  of  his  fellow-men,  and  thought  that  the  city  of  New 
York  would  not  be  a bad  place  in  which  to  exercise  his  wits.  So 
he  came  here  in  1850,  and  established  what  he  announced  as  a 
“ general  brokerage  business,”  the  name  of  the  firm  with  which 
he  was  connected  being  “ Winn,  Hawkins  & White.”  This  com- 
bination lasted  but  a*  very  brief  period  ; and  “ Plin  ” became  the 
defendant  in  any  number  of  civil  suits.  But  this  didn’t  trouble  him 
in  the  least;  he  was  far  above  being  annoyed  by  such  small  mat- 
ters as  that,  and  in  a few  weeks  he  was  on  his  feet  again.  At 
this  time  the  city  was  fairly  overrun  with  returning  Californians, 
who  brought  with  them  large  quantities  of  gold-dust  and  nuggets, 
which  they  were  anxious  to  dispose  of.  White  considered  them 
fair  game,  and  accordingly  became  a speculator  in  the  precious 
metal.  Success  attended  every  venture  in  which  he  engaged,  and 
he  soon  amassed  quite  a decent  fortune.  He  purchased  a costly 
residence  on  Fifth  Avenue  and  lived  in  the  most  extravagant  and 
luxurious  manner.  One  of  his  victims  was  Major  Hall,  pro- 
prietor of  Lovejoy’s  Hotel,  whom  he  somehow  or  other  induced 
to  sign  notes  to  the  amount  of  $50,000.  White  told  the  major 
that  he  only  wanted  to  use  the  notes  as  collateral  security  in  some 
of  his  gold  speculations,  and  entered  into  an  agreement  not  to 
dispose  of  them.  “ Plin  ” no  sooner  had  the  notes  in  his  pos- 
session than  he  sold  them,  and  Hall  realized  that  he  was  a ruined 
man.  He  remonstrated  with  White  and  threatened  him  with 
a criminal  prosecution,  but  he  only  laughed  in  the  major’s  face 
^nd  defied  him. 


CHICKEN-RAISING  IN  TEXAS. 


5^7 


“You  can’t  have  me  locked  up,”  he  said. 

And  so  it  proved,  but  Major  Hall  brought  a civil  suit,  out  of 
which  White  came  with  flying  colors.  Thirty  years  afterwards, 
so  consummate  was  White’s  impudence,  that  he  actually  called 
upon  the  major  at  his  residence,  and  begged  forgiveness.  But 
this  was  not  the  sole  object  of  his  call.  Would  Major  Hall  oblige 
him  with  the  loan  of  $ 1200  for  a few  days,  and  accept  as  security 
a blue  envelope,  which  he  produced,  saying  it  contained  $ 6000 
worth  of  bonds.  The  major  hesitated,  and  was  lost.  He  drew 
the  money  from  the  bank  and  handed  it  to  White,  receiving  the 
blue  envelope  as  security,  and  signing  an  agreement  not  to  open 
it  until  the  expiration  of  two  months.  Mrs.  Hall,  when  she  heard 
of  the  transaction  was  not  quite  as  confiding  as  her  husband.  She 
accordingly  called  upon  me  one  Sunday  afternoon  at  my  private 
residence,  No.  31 1 East  19th  Street,  and  showed  me  the  contents 
of  the  envelope— nothing  but  bogus  and  worthless  bonds.  Mrs. 
Hall  informed  me  that  “ Plin  ” was  to  call  upon  her  husband  that 
evening,  and  I immediately  telegraphed  to  police  headquarters, 
instructing  a couple  of  detectives  to  arrest  White  when  he  called 
upon  Major  Hall.  They  did  so,  and  White  eventually  served  a 
three  years’  sentence  in  Sing  Sing.  Immediately  after  his  first  deal- 
ings with  Major  Hall,  White  retired,  for  a time,  to  Vermont,  where 
he  completely  dazzled  the  natives  by  the  stories  which  he  told 
them  concerning  his  enormous  wealth  and  resources.  He  suc- 
ceeded in  gaining  the  confidence  of  many  wealthy  men,  and  pur- 
chased large  tracts  of  real  estate,  paying  for  them  with  notes 
which  were  worth  a little  less  than  the  paper  on  which  they  were 
written.  Then  he  raised  money  by  mortgaging  the  property  so 
purchased,  and  finally  fled  to  Europe  to  escape  arrest.  Here  he 
spent  several  years,  swindling  everybody  with  whom  he  came  in 
contact  and  who  was  worth  the  “ plucking.”  Returning  from 
Europe,  he  favored  the  good  people  of  Louisiana  with  his  good 
offices,  and  helped  to  elect  a governor.  He  was  rewarded  for  his 
services  by  being  appointed  State  printer,  and  while  holding  that 
office  purchased  an  island  off  the  coast  of  Texas.  Here  he  went 
into  the  business  of  raising  chickens,  but  his  efforts  in  this  inno- 
cent direction  were  interfered  with  by  a tremendous  storm,  which 
swept  away  the  whole  of  his  stock  and  nearly  drowned  White  him- 
self. Portland,  Me.,  was  his  next  abiding  place,  where  he  made 
the  acquaintance  of  a Mrs.  P.  O.  Williams  and  her  brother,  whom 


588 


THE  END  OF  ALL* 


he  induced  to  go  into  partnership  with  him  and  open  an  immense 
dry  goods  establishments  in  Denver,  Col.  The  firm  failed,  and 
White  was  richer  by  $75,000.  The  number  of  his  dupes  is  amazing, 
and  among  them  I may  mention  Ex-judge  James  R.  Whiting  (his 
lawyer),  Charles  Whiting ; C.  G.  Sanford,  of  Williamsburgh  ; H.  C. 
and  J.  H.  Stevens,  bankers,  of  Broadway  and  Chambers  Street ; 
Clinton  Lovell,  of  Boston  ; Alderman  Libby,  of  New  York  ; Albert 
H.  Dolliver,  Sixth  Avenue;  J.  M.  Shelly  & Co.,  of  Kansas  City, 
and  hosts  of  others.  Altogether,  I shall  not  be  very  far  wrong  if 
I estimate  the  total  amount  obtained  by  “ Plin  ” from  his  too-con- 
fiding friends  during  the  last  twenty  years  of  his  career,  at  $1,500, 
000  ! 

He  is  said  to  have  married  three  women,  two  of  whom  were 
living  at  the  same  time;  but  he  was  always  very  close  regarding 
his  domestic  arrangements,  and  I never  heard  anything  on  the 
subject  which  I considered  reliable. 

But  after  all,  he  died  without  a penny  almost.  Hunted  by  the 
police,  suffering  from  a disease  which  he  knew  would  terminate 
his  existence  in  a few  weeks  (a  carbuncle  at  the  base  of  his  brain), 
the  once  dashing  confidence  man  arrived  at  Reading,  Vt.,  in  the 
early  part  of  1886,  a mere  shadow  of  his  early  self.  Bowed 
down  with  the  weight  of  sixty  years  of  as  adventurous  a life  as  falls 
to  the  lot  of  but  few  men,  he  passes  along  the  old  familiar  streets? 
unrecognized  and  unknown.  Slowly  and  sadly  he  walks  to  the 
home  of  his  brother  Edward,  and  there  asks  for  shelter.  His  life, 
he  tells  his  relatives,  has  not  been  what  it  should  have  been.  He 
knows  that  well  enough.  Prison  fare  had  been  his  portion,  at 
times,  but  full  well  did  he  deserve  the  punishment.  Drink  had 
been  his  downfall!  It  was  the  old  tale  told  over  again.  But  all 
was  over  now ; he  had  not  many  days  to  live,  and  in  the  name  of 
the  mother  who  bore  them  both  he  begged  that  he  might  be 
allowed  to  die  beneath  his  brother’s  roof. 

And  so  he  did  ! 


CHAPTER  XLTIT. 


INFORMATION  TO  REPORTERS. — ABUSES  WHICH  CREEP  IN. — A CASE 
IN  POINT. — BLISSFUL  IGNORANCE  OF  THE  PUBLIC. — PUNISH- 
MENT NOT  THE  SOLE  PURPOSE  OF  A COURT  OF  JUSTICE. — ITS 
REAL  END  AND  AIM. — FULL  PUBLICATION  DESIRABLE  UNDER 

CERTAIN  RESTRICTIONS. A PARALLEL  CASE  WITH  THAT  OF  MR. 

COMMISSIONER  SQUIRE. HOW  MR.  DISBECKER  BECAME  A 

POLICE  COMMISSIONER. WHY  HE  DID  NOT  RESIGN. — PERSONAL 

APPEARANCE  OF  THE  “ FINEST.” HOW  IT  CAN  BE  IMPROVED. 

A PROPOSED  “SCHOOL  OF  DEPORTMENT.” THE  ART  OF  WEAR- 
ING CLOTHES. — MR.  E.  BERRY  WALL  AS  AN  INSTRUCTOR. A 

POLICEMAN  WITH  A PERFECT  MENTAL  EQUILIBRIUM. — WHAT  A 
VICTORY  ! — EFFECT  OF  POLITENESS  ON  THE  LOWER  CLASSES. — A 
POWERFUL  OBJECT  LESSON. 

As  nearly  everyone  is  aware,  it  has  been  the  almost  invariable 
practice  for  those  in  authority  at  police  headquarters  to  furnish 
representatives  of  the  press  with  only  such  information  as  they 
may  consider  advisable  concerning  complaints  made  of  crimes 
committed.  That  the  law  gives  them  the  authority  to  hold  back 
from  the  public  any  information  which  in  their  opinion  would  tend 
to  defeat  the  ends  of  justice,  there  can  be  no  doubt ; and  in  cer- 
tain cases  it  is  only  right  that  they  should  have  this  discretionary 
power  placed  in  their  hands.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  this  very 
power,  when  exercised  in  an  indiscriminate  and  intemperate 
manner,  certainly  opens  a gateway  through  which  many  abuses 
can  creep. 

When  a case  is  successfully  “ worked  up,”  the  fact  is  invariably 
given  out  to  the  reporters  and  blazoned  far  and  wide  over  the 
country  with  a grand  flourish  of  trumpets.  If  the  story  furnished 
the  reporters  were  strictly  in  accordance  with  the  facts,  I should 
be  the  last  person  on  earth  to  make  a complaint.  The  trouble 
has  been  and  is  that  greater  stress  is  laid  upon  the  efforts  of  the 
detective  than  is  most  times  deserved.  It  has  frequently  come  to 
%my  knowledge — while  I was  connected  with  the  force,  and  since — 

S89 


59° 


A “ STAR  CHAMBER. 


that  credit  has  been  given  certain  detectives  for  “ working  up  ” a 
case  successfully,  when,  in  reality,  the  capture  of  the  criminal  has 
been  effected  by  that  much  sought  for  individual  giving  himself 
up,  or  else  it  has  been  the  result  of  a “ squeal  ” by  one  of  his 
companions.  One  glaring  instance  of  this  sort  of  detective 
“work  ” recurs  to  my  mind  at  the  present  writing.  A forgery  had 
been  committed  on  a leading  banking  establishment,  but  the 
matter  was  not  reported  to  the  police.  The  bank  kept  quiet  until 
a second  check  was  presented  by  the  same  man,  when  they  de- 
tained him  on  some  excuse,  sent  for  an  officer  and  gave  him  into 
custody.  In  a few  days  a spread  - eagle  account  of  the  cap- 
ture of  the  forger  was  published  in  the  papers,  certain  detectives 
being  credited  with  having  been  “ shadowing  ” the  unfortunate 
criminal  for  weeks,  whereas  the  very  fact  that  a forgery  had  been 
committed  was  unknown  to  them.  This  instance  is  by  no  means 
a solitary  one ; it  occurs  frequently,  and  arises  as  much  from  the 
desire  of  the  reporter  to  “ keep  in  ” with  the  detective  corps,  as  it 
does  with  that  of  the  detective’s  wish  to  pose  as  a successful  thief- 
catcher.  But  otherwise — should  no  such  happy  event  occur — no 
information  is  ever  furnished  the  representatives  of  the  press,  and 
the  public  remain  in  blissful  ignorance  of  the  real  state  of  affairs  ; 
they  have,  in  fact,  no  means  of  judging  of  the  real  effectiveness  of 
the  detective  department,  self-constituted,  as  it  were,  into  some- 
thing very  nearly  approaching  a “ Star  Chamber.”  It  is,  of  course, 
a truism  that  the  machinery  of  justice,  as  represented  by  the 
police  department  and  the  courts,  is  not  set  in  motion  by  society 
for  the  sole  purpose  of  punishing  crime,  or  enabling  individuals 
who  have  been  made  the  victims  of  criminals  to  obtain  restitution 
or  revenge.  The  first  and  primal  object  of  police  and  court 
organizations  is  to  prevent  crime.  Punishments  are  awarded,  not 
to  inflict  suffering  on  the  criminal,  but  to  warn  others  from  the 
wrong  path.  This  is  the  modern  and  sound  idea,  to  which  all 
humane  and  enlightened  people  are  compelled  to  subscribe. 

Now,  I take  it  that  if  every  person  perpetrating  a crime,  or  con- 
templating the  perpetration  of  a crime,  should  know  of  an  abso- 
lute certainty  that  if  detected  it  would  be  utterly  impossible  for 
him  to  suppress  facts,  utterly  impossible  for  him  to  keep  his  name 
out  of  the  public  press,  and  thus  become  a warning  and  an  ex- 
ample— that  this  alone  would  exercise  a deterrent  influence.  Of 
course  this  would  seem  a great  hardship  in  very  many  cases.  The 


“DICKERING  ” AND  “ NEGOTIATING.  ” 59 1 

feelings  of  families  and  innocent  people,  would  often  be  sadly 
wounded,  but  the  result  arrived  at  would  be  the  benefit  of  society 
at  large  ; and  in  contemplating  such  a result,  true  humanity  does 
not  permit  us  to  consider  the  feelings  of  individuals. 

As  for  the  effect  on  the  police  force  itself  of  a full  publication  of 
police  news,  it  could  not  fail  to  be  beneficial,  as  the  public  would 
learn  of  failures  as  well  as  successes,  and  the  spur  to  greater 
effort  would  be  immediately  felt.  I am  aware  that  I am  writing 
on  a delicate  subject,  and  my  own  experience  teaches  me  that 
there  are  many  cases  in  which  suppression  of  news  is,  to  a certain 
extent,  absolutely  necessary  for  the  detection  of  the  criminal,  as 
the  mere  fact  of  publication  might  warn  him  to  take  to  flight.  In 
such  cases  I should  advocate  large  discretionary  powers  in  the 
hands  of  the  superintendent  of  police — not  for  the  suppression  of 
news,  but  for  a reasonable  delay  in  giving  such  news  out.  Let 
that  delay,  as  now,  be  left  entirely  to  the  judgment  of  the  super- 
intendent. 

I throw  out  these  suggestions  with  diffidence,  because  I am  so 
thoroughly  aware  of  the  many  complications  surrounding  this 
question ; and  I do  not  put  them  forward  in  any  spirit  of  criticism 
of  present  method,  but  merely  as  the  result  of  my  own  reflections 
upon  the  subject,  which  may  lead  some  wiser  heads  than  mine  to 
give  it  mature  consideration. 

The  publicity  given  not  so  very  long  ago  as  to  the  methods 
which  prevailed  in  connection  with  the  appointment  of  Mr.  Squire 
as  Commissioner  of  Public  Works,  recalls  to  my  mind  an  instance 
almost  identically  similar  in  character,  which  took  place  in  1873. 
When  Mr.  William  F.  Havemeyer  became  mayor  of  this  city  he 
was  asked  to  appoint  Abraham  Disbecker  as  one  of  the  police 
commissioners.  Mr.  Disbecker’s  most  urgent  and  persistent  en- 
dorser was  Mr.  A.  D.  Barber,  of  Albany,  who  had  helped  Mr. 
Havemeyer  to  get  legislation  through  the  assembly  affecting  the 
relations  of  the  mayor  to  the  police  commissioners.  Disbecker 
had  been  a clerk  of  one  of  the  committees  that  had  the  bill  in 
charge,  and  was  a great  friend  of  Mr.  Barber.  There  was,  of 
course,  considerable  “ dickering  ” and  “ negotiating,”  but  the 
result  was  that  Mr.  Havemeyer  agreed  to  appoint  Disbecker  as  a 
police  commissioner,  provided  the  latter  would  give  him  a written 
promise  to  resign,  which  it  was  understood  should  be  used  when 
the  mayor  saw  fit.  In  accordance  with  this  arrangement,  there- 


592  ONLY  A “PRIVATE  COMMUNICATION.  ” 

fore,  on  the  day  previous  to  that  on  which  the  appointment  was  to 
be  made,  Disbecker  handed  Mayor  Havemeyer  a letter  which  read 
substantially  as  follows  : 

“I  hereby  agree  to  resign  my  position  as  commissioner  of 
police  whenever  requested  by  Wm.  F.  Havemeyer,  mayor.” 

In  due  course  of  time  it  came  about  that  Mayor  Havemeyer 
arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  it  would  be  as  well  if  Mr.  Disbecker 
exercised  his  peculiar  talents  at  some  other  place  than  the  sunny 
quarters  of  the  police  board  on  Mulberry  Street.  In  short,  Mr. 
Havemeyer  called  upon  Commissioner  Disbecker  to  resign.  Mr. 
Disbecker  said  he  couldn't  think  of  such  a thing ; he  was  very 
comfortable  in  his  berth,  and  saw  no  good  reason  why  he  should 
willingly  cast  himself  adrift  upon  a cold  and  unsympathetic  world. 
Mr.  Havemeyer  insisted,  and  reminded  Mr.  Disbecker  of  the  ex- 
istence of  a certain  document  by  which  he  promised  to  relinquish 
his  office  whenever  so  requested.  This  didn’t  trouble  Mr.  Dis- 
becker in  the  least ; the  document  in  question,  the  authenticity  of 
which  he  did  not  for  one , moment  call  in  question,  was  not  worth 
the  paper  upon  which  it  was  written.  He  pointed  out  to  the 
mayor  that  the  date  on  the  letter  was  that  of  the  day  previous  to 
his  appointment  as  a commissioner.  It  was  not,  therefore,  a legal 
resignation  in  any  sense  of  the  term ; it  was  merely  a private  com- 
munication, such  as  one  citizen  might  write  to  another,  and  had 
no  official  force  whatever. 

The  position  taken  by  the  astute  and  far-seeing  Mr.  Disbecker 
was  indisputable,  and  Mr.  Havemeyer,  to  his  great  discomfiture, 
was  obliged  to  retire  from  the  field,  leaving  his  appointee  in  pos- 
session of  his  commissionership.  In  fact,  Disbecker  continued  in 
office  until  Mr.  Wickham  became  mayor,  when  he  was  removed  on 
charges  preferred. 

Since  I have  left  active  police  life  I have  often  thought  of  the 
wonderful  change  that  has  taken  place  in  the  character  of  the 
force  during  the  time  I was  connected  with  it.  Thirty-five  years 
ago  but  little  attention  was  paid  to  the  personnel  of  applicants  for 
appointment  as  patrolmen.  Now  a very  close  investigation  is 
made  of  the  strength,  constitution  and  general  physical  well-being 
of  the  policemen,  and  it  is  unquestionable  that  great  improvement 
has  been  the  result  of  the  application  of  the  methods  of  examina- 
tion now  in  vogue.  But  I venture  to  suggest  that  there  is  still 
very  wide  room  for  broadening  the  field  of  police  education.  It 


IDEAL  OFFICERS. 


593 


is  undoubtedly  an  excellent  thing  to  secure  stalwart,  hearty  and 
vigorous  men  ; but  there  are  other  qualifications  which  civil  service 
examination  does  not  provide  for,  but  which  would  most  certainly 
go  a long  way  towards  making  up  the  acquirements  of  an  ideal 
officer.  I have  sometimes  fancied  that  it  might  not  be  wholly  im- 
possible to  attempt  to  endow  policemen  with  those  elegancies  and 
courtesies  of  life  which  make  refined  social  intercourse  so  pleasant 
and  improving. 

Let  us  imagine  an  institution  in  which  the  guardian  of  the 
peace  can  learn  to  make  a pleasant  bow,  to  walk  with  grace,  to 
shake  hands  with  dignity,  to  lift  his  hat  in  a courtly  way,  or  to  ex- 
tend his  protecting  arm  to  a lady  with  Chesterfieldian  decorum. 
Such  arts  are  teachable,  and  could  be  eloquently  lectured  upon 
and  illustrated  by  some  great  actor,  famous  for  his  grace  of  man- 
ner, say  Mr.  Frank  Mayo,  for  example.  Another  art  which  goes 
far  toward  making  a man  popular  and  effective  is  the  capacity  to 
speak  readily  and  to  the  point  upon  matters  which  come  within  his 
ken.  In  my  imaginary  School  of  Deportment  I can  see  Mr. 
Chauncey  M.  Depew  filling  such  a “ chair,”  and  imparting  to  his 
scholars  some  of  the  secrets  of  the  fascinating  elements  which 
make  him  so  happy  a speechmaker;  and  with  what  unctuous 
humor  and  fine  rhetoric  could  our  distinguished  senator,  Wm.  M. 
Evarts,  unfold  the  mystery  of  how  to  crack  a pleasant  joke. 

Another  of  the  amenities  of  life,  which  is  taught  nowhere,  is  the 
art  of  how  to  wear  one’s  clothes.  How  often  have  I seen  the  effect 
of  a fine  new  uniform,  donned  by  a well-built  policeman,  spoiled 
because  the  man  inside  did  not  know  how  to  wear  it ; and  how 
much  must  this  detract  from  the  impression  sought  to  be  produced 
by  clothing  the  officer  in  a uniform  ? Could  he  not  be  taught  how 
to  wear  it  ? I maintain  that  he  could,  and  have  but  to  mention 
the  name  of  Mr.  E.  Berry  Wall,  for  every  citizen  of  (New  York 
to  instantly  recognize  the  proper  gentleman  to  act  as  instructor 
of  this  branch  of  polite  accomplishment. 

At  first  sight,  these  propositions  may  seem  somewhat  fanciful, 
but  if  the  reader  will  think  a little  he  will  perceive  that  I am  really 
advocating  a most  serious  matter.  Certainly,  the  practice  of  the 
arts  which  make  men  agreeable  to  their  fellows  is  as  much  to  be 
desired  as  the  practice  of  the  rules  which  make  them  formidable. 
Indeed,  more  than  that.  A strong  man  who  is  also  a polite  and 
affable  person  is  the  possessor  of  enlarged  powers  for  good.  I 


594 


A NATIONAL  INSTITUTION. 


think,  if  such  a curriculum  were  instituted  for  policemen,  that  the 
beneficial  effects  which  would  be  obtained  would  make  themselves 
notable  ; and  that  the  idea  would  spread  as  it  ought  to,  ands  that 
before  long  we  should  see  similar  professorships  ordained  in  our 
public  schools.  And  no  one  can  dispute  for  a moment  that  much 
good  would  be  done  if  the  coming  generation  were  not  only  taught 
how  to  read,  write  and  cipher,  but  also  how  to  be  graceful,  cour- 
teous, and  sociable  ladies  and  gentlemen.  In  fact,  it  would  ac- 
complish a revolution  in  the  social  life  of  our  country  ; for  the 
most  ardent  lovers  of  American  institutions,  of  whom  I count  my- 
self one,  cannot  deny  that  our  social  life  is  somewhat  lacking  in 
the,  refinement  of  what  are  commonly  called  small  things,  but 
which  really  are  very  important  things,  and  which  go  far  toward 
making  existence  pleasant  and  enjoyable.  I have  no  doubt  that 
the  eminent  gentlemen  I have  named  would  heartily  co-operate 
in  a movement  looking  to  the  ends  I have  indicated  ; and  cer- 
tainly a School  of  Deportment  under  such  ’distinguished  patronage 
would  speedily  become  a national  institution  that  would  find  imita- 
tors throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  Republic. 

Imagine  a policeman  so  trained ! Why,  the  transaction  of  busi- 
ness with  him  by  the  average  citizen  would  be  both  a pleasure  and 
an  instruction.  A request  for  the  locality  of  a certain  street  would 
be  cheerfully  answered  with  a pleasant  bow,  that  would  send  the 
citizen  on  his  way  refreshed  and  light  of  heart.  A lady  compelled 
to  cross  Broadway  amid  a throng  of  jostling  vehicles,  would  find 
herself  escorted  with  a courteous  consideration  that  would  land 
her  on  the  opposite  side-walk  positively  pleased  with  her  perilous 
trip  ; and  the  unfortunate  gentleman  who  should  have  worshipped 
too  long  and  too  often  at  the  rosy  shrine  of  Bacchus  would  find 
himself  guided  to  his  home,  or  when  too  far  “gone,”  to  the  near- 
est police-station,  with  a dignified  and  shocked  formality  that 
would  not  only  make  him  feel  perfectly  safe,  but  would  positively 
shame  him  into  a better  line  of  conduct,  because,  for  the  moment 
at  least,  he  would  be  the  churl  and  the  officer  the  gentleman.  I 
do  not  know  whether,  in  surprising  a burglar  at  his  nefarious  occu- 
pation, a police-officer  so  schooled  could  stop  to  consider  how  the 
burglar  should  be  accosted ; but  I can  imagine  a policeman 
brought  to  such  a fine  pitch  of  mental  equilibrium  that  even  then 
he  would  carefully  weigh  his  words  and  actions,  with  a view  not 
only  to  effect  the  capture  of  the  burglar,  but  to  preach  to  him  in 


AN  ERA  OF  NATIONAL  POLITENESS. 


595 


his  person  and  bearing  an  effective  moral  lesson.  This,  of  course, 
would  be  an  extreme  case,  but  if  it  could  be  accomplished,  who 
knows  but  that  the  burglar’s  mind  would  be  so  startled  and  so 
powerfully  affected  by  the  living  sermon  before  him,  that  it  might 
prove  the  starting  point  that  would  turn  his  feet  into  ways  of 
righteousness.  What  a victory  would  that  be  ! 

There  are  certain  districts  in  New  York,  as  in  all  great  cities, 
where  life  is  seen  in  its  crudest  and  most  revolting  forms.  If  the 
police  squads  that  patrol  such  districts  were  living  specimens  of 
all  that  is  lovely  and  courteous  in  mankind,  they  would  breathe 
out  an  atmosphere  about  them  that  could  not  fail  to  impregnate 
the  minds  of  the  dullest  of  the  denizens  of  these  purlieus  ; and  in 
due  course  of  time  it  might  come  to  pass  that  Mulberry  and  Bax- 
ter -streets  would  begin  to  rival  Rotten  Row  and  the  Bois  de 
Boulogne  in  the  exchange  of  courtesies  and  the  practice  of  polite- 
ness ; and  every  philosopher  who  has  ever  written  bears  testi- 
mony to  the  fact  that  good  manners  breed  good  morals.  So,  not 
only  might  the  poor  creatures  named  be  improved  in  their  style, 
but  ultimately  elevated  in  all  their  relations  with  their  fellow-men. 
The  development  of  the  Kindergarten  system  demonstrates  that  no 
lessons  are  so  powerful  as  object  lessons ; and  what  more  striking 
and  delightful  daffy  instruction  can  be  imagined  than  the  per- 
petual appearance  and  reappearance  of  a corps  of  policemen  so 
admirably  trained  as  to  be  positively  fascinating. 

I will  particularize  no  further,  but  will  leave  this  fruitful  theme 
to  the  consideration  of  the  public,  with  the  firm  conviction  that 
some  great  reformer  will  at  some  future  day  arise,  who  will  crown 
his  name  with  glory  by  inaugurating  the  “ Era  of  National  Tolite- 
ness.” 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 


TWO  MAIN  CAUSES  OF  CRIME. — MUNICIPAL  GOVERNMENT  IN  NEW 
YORK. “ POLITICS  ” SYNONYMOUS  WITH  POWER  AND  PLUN- 
DER.  THE  PREDOMINANT  IDEA  IN  A POLITICAL  CAMPAIGN. 

ALL  THE  SNEAKS  ARE  REPUBLICANS  AND  ALL  THE  ROUGHS 

ARE  DEMOCRATS. NEW  YORK  RULED  BY  THE  WORST  ELEMENTS 

IN  THE  COMMUNITY. WHY  THE  BETTER  CLASSES  DO  NOT  AT- 
TEND THE  PRIMARIES. RESULTS  OF  OUR  FORM  OF  GOVERN- 
MENT.   EXCESSIVE  TAXATION.  — SHAMEFUL  STREETS. DIS- 
GRACEFUL DOCKS. INSUFFICIENT  SCHOOL  ACCOMMODATION. 

THE  JUDICIARY. — NOT  AN  EDIFYING  SIGHT. HOW  JUSTICE  IS  PER- 

VERTED^— WHY  JAY  GOULD  COULD  DEFY  THE  LAW. — PERSECUT- 
ING A PROSECUTOR. — OUR  LIBERTIES  CURTAILED. — ONE  LAW 

FOR  THE  RICH  AND  ANOTHER  FOR  THE  POOR. THE  EXCISE 

LAWS. — SOME  SUGGESTIONS. — THE  SOCIAL  EVIL  AND  HOW 
TO  DEAL  WITH  IT. — THE  COMMISSIONER  OF  JURORS. — UNIVER- 
SAL SUFFRAGE  A FAILURE. — DIFFICULTIES  IN  THE  PATH  OF 
REFORM. — THE  ROOT  OF  THE  EVIL. — REMEDIES. — THE  LAST 
PAGE. 

I have  finished  my  record.  Looking  over  the  many  pages 
that  precede  this,  many  telling  of  what  is  worst  in  human  nature,  it 
fairly  appals  me  to  think  that  such  a record  lies  within  the  recol- 
lection and  experience  of  a single  human  life.  But  I pursue  the 
reflection,  and  realize  that  my  own  knowledge  of  crime  is  but  as  a 
drop  of  water  to  the  infinite  ocean  of  vice.  What  causes  crime  ? 
There  seem  to  me  to  be  two  main  originating  forces.  First : 
crime  that  springs  from  the  instincts  of  nature,  and  that  ever  has 
been,  is  and  will  be  committed  by  human  beings,  whether  savage 
or  civilized.  Second  : crime  that  springs  peculiarly  from  society ; 
or,  to  put  it  more  plainly,  crime  bred  by  the  social  environment 
of  the  criminal.  With  the  first  species  I do  not  propose  to  deal  ; 
it  is  properly  the  field  of  the  philosopher  and  the  clergyman.  But 
the  second  species,  I think,  may  fairly  lie  within  my  province ; and 
I may  venture  to  claim  that  a chief  of  police  has  unusual  oppor- 

596 


POWER  AND  PLUNDER. 


597 


tunities  for  observing  and  noting  the  many  phases  of  corruption 
which  are  possible  and  existent  under  our  present  system  of  gov- 
ernment. I shall,  of  course,  confine  my  remarks  entirely  to  mu- 
nicipal affairs. 

Municipal  government  in  the  United  States  is  not  conducted 
as  it  is  in  the  rest  of  the  civilized  world.  It  is  based  upon  uni- 
versal suffrage,  and  its  campaigns  are  carried  on,  not  on  the  basis 
of  what  the  city  needs,  but  the  needs  of  the  politicians  of 
the  two  great  political  parties.  As  every  one  knows,  there  are 
two  political  factions,  so  called,  in  New  York — Republican  and 
Democratic — but  politics  implies  principles,  and  I do  not  believe 
that  one  man  in  five  hundred  can  explain  understanding^  the 
foundation  principles  of  either  of  the  parties  mentioned.  To  call 
them  <*  political  ” parties  is  clearly  a misnomer,  for  the  very  simple 
reason  that  the  only  basis  underlying  their  existence,  here  in 
New  York,  at  least,  is  power  and  plunder.  No  intelligent  man, 
in  fact,  believes  that  these  two  parties  are  kept  alive  for  any 
other  purpose  than  that  of  catching  votes  by  the  use  of  the  old 
watchwords — “ Republican  ” and  “ Democrat.”  If  any  proof  be 
needed  of  this,  it  can  be  found  in  the  oft-repeated  fusions  of  the 
rings  of  the  two  parties,  for  the  purpose  of  getting  an  office,  and 
the  spoils  belonging  thereto,  within  their  grasp.  In  a “political” 
campaign  of  ther  present  day,  one  idea  is  predominant  and  over- 
whelms every  other — that  of  nominating  the  man  who  can  com- 
mand the  greatest  numbers  of  votes.  Why,  I verily  believe  if 
Judas  Iscariot  were  alive,  and  it  were  supposed  he  had  the  “pull  ” 
in  any  single  ward  in  the  city,  he  would  stand  a good  chance  of 
being  nominated  for  an  office.  I have  noticed  one  remarkable 
fact  in  connection  with  the  intimate  relations  between  politics  and 
crime,  which  is  this  : All  the  sneaks,  hypocrites  and  higher  grade 

of  criminals,  when  questioned  upon  the  subject,  almost  invaria- 
bly lay  claim  to  be  adherents  of  the  Republican  party  ; while,  on 
the  other  hand,  criminals  of  the  lower  order — those  who  rob  by 
violence  and  brute  force — lay  claim  in  no  uncertain  tones  to 
being  practical  and  energetic  exponents  of  true  Democratic  prin- 
ciples. Of  course,  it  is  far  from  my  intention  to  say  that  every 
Republican  is  a sanctimonious  sneak,  hypocrite  or  forger  ; or  that 
every  Democrat  is  a burglar,  foot-pad,  pimp  or  rough.  Neverthe- 
less, what  I have  alluded  to  is  the  fact.  I will  not  pretend  to 
account  for  these  remarkable  phenomena,  but  leave  them  rather  to 


59&  NEW  YORK  RULED  BY  “TOUGHS.” 

future  philosophers  and  scientists,  who  will,  doubtless,  enlighten 
humanity.  It  is  beyond  my  power  to  do  so. 

The  city  of  New  York  is  actually  ruled  by  some  twenty  thou- 
sand office-holders,  most  of  whom  are  taken  from  and  controlled 
by  the  very  worst  elements  in  the  community. 

The  “gentleman  ” is  practically  debarred  from  any 'active  partici- 
pation in  politics.  One  does  not  see  the  merchant  princes,  nor 
the  great  editors  in  the  aldermanic  chamber.  But  we  do  see  the 
face  of  the  ward  “heeler”  and  the  “tough.”  Observe  the  counte- 
nances of  some  of  our  “ City  Fathers,”  court  attaches  and  city 
employes.  You  will  find  the  square  jaw  and  large  back  head 
of  the  man  who  rules  by  brute  force  rather  than  by  intellect ; 
but  the  face  of  the  student  and  of  the  refined  gentleman  is  rarely 
seen.  In  fact,  the  ruling  class  in  New  York  has  its  counterpart 
almost  in  the  land  of  the  Hindoo,  where  the  “ Thugs  ” dominate 
certain  portions'of  the  country  by  the  exercise  of  brute  force  and 
criminal  violence,  although  we  are  supposed  to  have  a government 
by  the  people,  of  the  people  and  for  the  people ; instead  of  that  we 
have  a government  by  the  politician,  of  the  politician,  and  for  the 
politician.  To  me  the  question  very  naturally  arises,  why  the 
better  classes  of  society  do  not  attend  the  “primaries.”  I know 
the  “ gentleman  ” considers  it  useless  for  him  to  do  so ; and  it  cer- 
tainly requires  some  courage  to  enter  the  low  saloons  and  rum- 
shops  in  which  the  primaries  are  almost  invariably  held  ; attended, 
too,  as  they  are  in  most  instances,  by  gangs  of  roughs  in  the  em- 
ploy of  the  “ boss  ” of  the  district.  It  is  claimed  by  the  respec- 
table element  that  even  if  they  did  attend,  there  is  not  much  chance 
of  their  being  heard ; and  even  if  they  are  not  thrown  down  stairs 
or  pitched  out  of  window  before  the  voting  commences,  the  ballot 
boxes  are  stuffed  with  impunity,  for  the  simple  reason  that  the  law 
regarding  the  proceedings  at  these  gatherings  has  fallen  into  a 
state  of  “ innocuous  desuetude.”  Granted  that  such  is  the  state 
of  affairs,  and  I am  fully  aware  of  its  truth,  I shall  have  something 
further  to  say  upon  the  subject. 

Let  me  ask,  What  are  some  of  the  results  of  such  a form  of  gov- 
ernment ? Why,  the  rate  of  taxation  is  so  high  that  the  owner  of 
a house  has  to  disburse  more  per  annum  in  that  direction  than 
he  would  have  to  pay  for  the  rent  of  a similar  residence  in  almost 
any  city  of  the  Old  World.  And  what  do  we  get  in  return  for  this 
enormous  outlay  ? Streets,  many  paved  with  cobble  stones  and 


A BAD  OUTLOOK. 


599 


full  of  holes,  which  would  be  a disgrace  to  any  country  village, 
and  only  the  chief  of  which  are  watered  in  order  to  lay  the  dust 
a county  court-house  without  a roof ; docks  which  are  a disgrace  to 
any  civilized  community;  a system  of  public  schools  so  inade- 
quate in  the  matter  of  accommodation  that  thousands  of  children 
are  obliged  to  attend  private  educational  institutions ; while  the 
cost  of  justice  is  so  great,  the  loss  of  time  so  considerable,  and  the 
annoyances  of  such  a nature  that  many  men  submit  to  the  depreda- 
tions of  the  petty  thief  and  the  loss  of  small  debts,  rather  than 
risk  ten  times  the  amount  in  uncertain  and  ruinous  litigation. 
Our  judiciary  and  prosecuting  officers  are  elected  and  controlled 
in  a great  measure  by  the  very  elements  they  are  called  upon  to 
punish  and  keep  in  check.  A Russian  official,  in  the  very  nature 
of  things,  dares  not  cross  the  purposes  of  the  Czar,  nor  does  the 
office-holder  in  New  York  dare  anything  which  might  prejudice 
him  in  the  opinion  ©f  those  to  whom  he  must  appeal  for  re-election. 
Not  infrequently  our  police  justices  have  been  men  with  no 
knowledge  of  law,  and  sometimes  so  illiterate  as  to  be  unable  to 
spell  even  the  simplest  words  correctly.  It  is  not  an  edifying  or 
unusual  sight  to  see  a low  politician  demanding  that  some  dis- 
orderly person  be  discharged  from  the  prison  to  which  he  has 
been  relegated  on  account  of  his  inability  to  produce  a bondsman 
for  his  good  behavior.  Indeed,  a politician  often  peremptorily  de- 
mands the  discharge  of  a culprit  after  he  has  been  proved  guilty 
beyond  the  shadow  of  a doubt,  and  not  infrequently  a prisoner  is 
allowed  to  walk  out  of  the  court-room,  a free  man,  even  after  he 
has  been  committed  to  the  Island  for  a term  of  months. 

Although,  of  course,  all  things  are  possible,  yet  I would  not 
count  among  probable  contingencies,  under  the  present  system  of 
government  in  New  York,  the  hanging  of  any  one  of  its  million- 
aires, no  matter  how  unprovoked  or  premeditated  the  murder. 
Those  individuals  who  have  been  executed  during  the  last  genera- 
tion have  all  been  without  money,  and,  usually,  with  no  friends. 
Many  murders  have  been  committed  by  rich  men,  but  they  either 
did  not  come  to  trial,  or  they  were  found  to  be  insane  by  an  “ in- 
telligent ” jury.  I believe  that  Mr.  Jay  Gould  could  to-day  com- 
mit? any  crime  in  the  decalogue  with  impunity.  I do  not  mean  to 
say  that  Mr.  Gould  is  a dishonest  man,  nor  would  I have  the 
reader  infer  that  he  would  wrong  any  one,  but  I believe  that  Mr. 


6oo 


LESS  LIBERTY  THAN  IN  RUSSIA. 


Gould,  backed  by  his  fifty  million  dollars,  could  defy  justice  in 
the  city  of  New  York. 

I have  already  alluded  to  the  disinclination  of  persons  to  “go 
to  law,”  and  the  fact  that  many  a business  man  who  has  been 
robbed,  prefers  to  put  up  with  his  loss  rather  than  submit  to  the 
waste  of  time,  the  vexation,  annoyance  and  interruption  of  business 
which  attendance  at  court  would  entail.  The  consequence  is  that 
the  accused  is  discharged  from  custody  ; a fact  which,  I have  no 
doubt,  encourages  others  in  the  commission  of  crime  by  the  expec- 
tation of  similar  leniency.  In  my  opinion  a man  should  be  com- 
pelled to  prosecute  in  such  cases.  A magistrate  should  not  allow 
any  compromise  in  his  court,  but  should  enforce  the  attendance  of 
witnesses  on  behalf  of  the  people.  In  not  doing  so  he  is  simply 
permitting  what,  under  other  circumstances,  would  be  a criminal  of- 
fence^— the  compounding  of  a felony.  That  is  what  it  is  morally, 
if  not  legally  ; and  it  is  constantly  winked  at  by  our  judges.  With 
our  present  judicial  machinery,  however,  it  is  very  evident  that  we 
cannot  expect  the  laws  to  be  properly  enforced.  I have  known 
numberless  cases  where  the  “ lines  ” of  a prosecutor  have  not,  by 
any  means,  “ been  cast  in  pleasant  places.”  Political  friends  and 
adherents  make  life  unpleasant  for  him ; on  the  streets  he  is 
hounded  by  prize-fighters  and  bullies ; his  business  threatened 
with  ruin  ; bully-ragged  in  court  by  low,  shyster  lawyers,  as  crimi- 
nal as  those  by  whom  they  are  employed,  until  he  comes  to  the 
conclusion  that  his  life  is  in  danger — which  is  not  probable — and 
considers  it  policy  on  his  part  to  withdraw  from  the  prosecution- 

While  I admit  that,  as  a nation,  we  have  the  best  form  of  govern- 
ment there  is  in  the  world,  under  our  municipal  system  here  in  New 
York  there  is  less  liberty  and  protection  to  person  and  property 
than  in  almost  any  city  in  Europe,  Russian  cities  not  excepted. 
To  such  an  extent  is  the  public  demoralized  that  they  no 
longer  consider  the  policeman  in  his  true  light,  that  of  a preserver  of 
the  peace  ; but  actually,  and  with  some  degree  of  justice,  deem  him 
a public  enemy.  This,  of  course,  inevitably  reacts  on  the  police 
force  itself,  until  a policeman  very  naturally  comes  to  consider 
himself  not  unlike  an  armed  soldier  in  the  midst  of  a hostile  camp. 
Further,  the  police  are  by  no  means  supported  by  the  authorities 
in  the  enforcement  of  the  law,  and  as  a natural  consequence,  are 
sometimes  dilatory  in  bringing  culprits  to  justice,  or,  as  has 
happened  time  and  time  again,  mete  out  punishment  themselves. 


LONDON  AND  NEW  YORK  POLICE  CONTRASTED.  6oi 

Two  incidents  which  come  to  my  mind  just  now  will  illustrate  what 
I allude  to  exactly.  Upon  the  day  the  Crystal  Palace  was  opened 
in  London,  certain  streets  were  ordered  to  be  closed  against  the 
passage  of  any  but  pedestrians,  and  police-officers  were  detailed  to 
enforce  this  order.  A captain  in  the  Coldstream  Guards,  mounted, 
attempted  to  ride  through  one  of  the  thoroughfares  in  question,  and 
was  stopped  by  the  policeman  on  duty.  He  persisted,  and  finally 
struck  the  officer  several  severe  blows  across  the  face  with  his  whip. 
He  was  promptly  arrested,  and  despite  the  fact  that  his  friends 
were  willing  to  spend  any  amount  of  money  to  procure  his  acquittal, 
he  was  convicted  and  sentenced  to  a term  of  imprisonment.  An 
appeal  was  even  made  to  the  Queen  herself  in  his  behalf,  for  he 
was  of  high  lineage,  but  with  no  avail.  Now,  mark  the  contrast. 
At  about  the  same  time  there  was  a procession  passing  through 
the  streets  of  New  York,  and  a detachment  of  officers  was  at  the 
head  of  it  to  clear  the  way.  A well-known  gambler  and  politician, 
seated  in  his  carriage,  was  met  and  was  requested  to  turn  into  a 
side  street.  He  refused,  became  very  abusive  and  beat  the  officer 
who  remonstrated  with  him  in  such  a severe  manner  about  the 
head  and  face  as  to  draw  blood.  And  then  he  drove  on.  Nothing 
was  ever  done  about  it,  except  that  the  police-officer,  if  I remem- 
ber rightly  was  soon  afterwards  transferred  to  a precinct  where  he 
would  not  make  himself  obnoxious  by  interfering  with  the  guileless 
pleasures  of  the  gambler.  Is  it  any  wonder,  under  such  circum- 
stances, that  members  of  the  force  sometimes  forget  that  they  are 
sworn  to  preserve  the  peace,  and  hit  back,  just  as  an  ordinary 
citizen  would,  when  abused,  threatened  and  assaulted,  instead  of 
invoking  the  aid  of  justice — heaven  save  the  mark  ! 

Another  crying  evil  is  the  system  of  excise  laws.  Standing  as 
it  does  at  present,  it  is  neither  more  nor  less  than  a farce.  Under 
the  present  laws  the  excise  commissioners  are  empowered  to  re- 
voke the  license  of  an  individual  who  has  been  convicted ; but 
that  individual,  in  the  boldest  possible  manner,  simply  puts 
a “ dummy  ” in  his  place  and  procures  another  license.  What 
is  needed  is  an  act  of  the  Legislature  giving  the  commission- 
ers power  to  suspend  the  license  to  the  place  itself,  as  well  as  the 
individual.  Owners  of  property  in  the  shape  of  saloons,  dance 
halls,  etc.,  would  then  pretty  quickly  find  it  to  be  to  their  interest 
to  secure  decent,  respectable  tenants.  I would  also  advocate  the 
granting  of  licenses  for  the  sale  of  liquor  between  such  hours  as 


602 


THE  SOCIAL  EVIL. 


the  customs  or  needs  of  the  locality  in  which  the  saloon  is  located 
demanded.  Such,  for  instance,  as  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Washington, 
Fulton  and  other  markets.  Why  not  allow  them  to  be  open  be- 
tween 3 a.m.  and  9 p.m.  every  day,  for  that  is  the  period  during 
which  those  who  do  business  there  need  refreshments  ? 

And  now  a word  or  two  upon  a subject,  distasteful  to  all,  but  at 
the  same  time  one  which  must  be  considered  in  connection 
with  the  proper  government  of  a large  city  like  New  York.  I re- 
fer to  the  “ social  evil ,”  so  called.  I am  well  aware,  both  from 
personal  observation  abroad  and  what  I have  read,  that  in  this 
respect  our  city  will  bear  favorable  comparison  with  any  other. 
Not  that  the  number  of  prostitutes  is  smaller,  but  the  existence 
of  the  evil  is  less  apparent  to  a stranger,  who  does  not  find  him- 
self accosted  on  the  street  in  broad  daylight,  as  would  be  the 
case  were  he  walking  on  certain  streets  in  London.  But  for  all 
that,  some  stringent  regulations  are  required  in  order  to  deal 
properly  with  this  important  problem.  While  I am  not  pre- 
pared to  advocate  the  adoption  of  the  French  system  in  its  en- 
tirety, still  I would  place  the  “ strange  woman  ” under  the  sur- 
veillance of  the  police.  They  should  be  restricted  to  a certain 
section  of  the  city,  and  be  subject  to  arrest  at  sight  if  found  any- 
where outside  the  prescribed  limits.  Under  no  consideration 
whatever  should  a woman  be  allowed  to  approach  or  solicit  men 
on  the  street.  Such  a system  would  undoubtedly  prevent  the 
wholesale  blackmailing  to  which  I have  every  reason  to  believe 
the  poor  degraded  women  who  sell  their  bodies  for  gain  are 
forced  to  submit  at  the  hands  of  unprincipled  police  officials.  I 
say  “have  every  reason  to  believe,”  because,' while  it  is  a moral 
certainty  this  blackmailing  exists,  it  is  almost  impossible  to  obtain 
the  evidence  of  a third  party  as  to  the  payment  of  money  in  such  in- 
stances. When  one  of  these  women  makes  a charge  of  this  nature, 
it  is  simply  a question  of  veracity  between  her  and  the  police-officer. 
Those  in  authority  have  always  demanded  that  the  complainant’s 
story  shall  be  substantiated  by  the  evidence  of  citizens  of 
reputation  and  standing  before  they  were  willing  to  arrive  at 
the  conclusion  that  the  charge  was  proven.  It  reminds  me  of 
the  story  of  the  man  who  went  to  his  neighbor  and  requested  the 
loan  of  his  jackass.  “ It’s  not  at  home,”  was  the  reply.  At 
that  moment  the  animal’s  braying  was  heard  in  the  adjoining 
stable.  “ Why,  you  said  it  wasn’t  at  home  ! ” remarked  the  would- 


JURY  TALESMEN. 


603 


be  borrower.  Upon  which  the  owner  retorted  : “ Whose  word  do 
you  take — mine  or  that  jackass’s  Neither  do  the  police  com- 
missioners care  to  believe  the  word  of  the  erring  and  sinful,  but 
much-to-be-pitied,  woman  against  that  of  the  police  officer. 

Another  radical  evil  has  been  revealed  by  the  recent  disclosures 
in  connection  with  the  preparation  of  the  lists  of  talesmen  for  the 
trial  of  “ boodle  ” Alderman  McQuade.  It  has  been  shown 
most  conclusively  that  there  is  no  small  amount  of  corruption  in 
the  office  of  the  Commissioner  of  Jurors,  and  some  sweeping  re- 
forms and  changes  are  needed  in  that  department.  I wrould 
suggest,  also,  that  the  judge  of  a criminal  court  should  have  the 
power,  when  he  deems  fit,  to  try  criminal  cases  with  “ struck  V 
juries,  as  certain  civil  cases  are  now. 

Think  of  all  these  things,  and  then  talk  about  this  being  the 
land  of  liberty.  Look  at  the  manner  in  which  the  elevated  rail- 
roads occupy  a street  to  the  utter  disregard  of  the  rights  of  the 
public.  Certainly  they  are  a public  convenience,  but  as  cer- 
tainly should  the  people,  who  are  the  chief  parties  interested,  be 
consulted  in  the  first  instance,  which  they  are  not. 

Our  liberties  are  interfered  with  and  curtailed  in  so  many  ways, 
that  it  is  useless  to  attempt  an  enumeration.  We  are  robbed 
and  swindled  right  and  left — by  the  wealthy  corporation,  which 
seizes  upon  our  property  with  impunity  and  without  remunera- 
tion, down,  through  all  the  various  grades,  to  the  thief  with  polit- 
ical influence  who  “ snatches  ” your  watch ; while  human  life,  as 
I have  previously  observed,  can  be  taken  with  safety  by  the  great 
millionaire  or  party  leader. 

What  are  the  remedies  for  the  existing  state  of  things  ? First, 
I believe  that  universal  suffrage,  when  applied  to  the  municipal 
government  of  large  cities,  is  a failure.  I think  the  same  opin- 
ion is  held  by  the  editor  of  every  newspaper  in  this  city,  but  none 
dare  give  public  expression  to  that  opinion,  as  such  a course 
would  woefully  damage  the  subscription  lists.  A man  should 
have  some  qualification  other  than  simply  that  of  being  a resi- 
dent. If  it  were  possible  to  draw  a plain,  unmistakable  line,  I 
should  say  make  honesty,  intelligence  and  integrity  the  pre- 
requisite for  the  exercise  of  the  ballot ; but  such  a demarca- 
tion, as  yet,  is  beyond  our  powers.  By  no  means  would  I ad- 
vocate a property  qualification.  Suppose,  for  instance,  a law 
were  passed  requiring  the  possession  of  property  to  the  value  of 


604  universal  suffrage  a failure. 

$50  as  a pre-requisite.  A man  owns  a mule  worth  that  much,  and 
as  long  as  that  mule  lives  his  owner  can  exercise  the  franchise.  It 
dies,  and  the  man  loses  his  vote  ! Ergo,  by  a species  of  inductive 
logic,  the  mule  votes,  not  the  man  ! 

Admitting,  therefore,  the  present  impossibility  of  attacking  uni- 
versal suffrage,  the  efforts  of  all  reputable  citizens  should  be  to 
see  that  the  suffrage  is  cast  in  the  most  honest  manner  possible 
and  for  the  most  honest  purposes.  To  secure  this,  what  can  be 
done  ? The  expression  of  the  public  will  at  the  polls  must,  in 
the  nature  of  things,  be  moved  by  the  machinery  of  a party  or 
parties.  Let  the  gentlemen  of  New  York  cease  to  vote  in  munic- 
ipal affairs  as  so-called  Republicans  or  Democrats,  and  let  them 
band  themselves  together  in  defence  of  their  persons  and 
lives  against  lawless  violence ; in  defence  of  their  property  against 
excessive  and  illegal  taxation,  which,  if  allowed  to  run  un 
checked,  will  one  day  end  in  confiscation  ; and  in  defence  of  their 
natural  and  inalienable  right  to  rule  themselves,  which  right, 
through  carelessness,  and  lack  of  interest,  they  have  practically 
delegated  to  the  professional  politician,  the  ward  bummer,  the 
heeler  and  the  tough. 

The  very  root  of  the  whole  trouble  is  that  the  respectable 
business  men,  those  having  an  interest  in  the  good  govern- 
ment of  the  city,  not  only  for  their  own  sakes,  but  for  the  sake  of 
those  who  will  come  after  them,  do  not  take  that  interest  which 
is  clearly  their  duty  in  the  preliminary  skirmishes  of  a political 
campaign — the  primaries.  It  is  all  very  well  to  say  that  such 
gatherings  are  controlled  by  a rough  element.  Whose  fault  is 
that  ? It  is  within  the  power  of  the  better  classes  of  the  com- 
munity to  overcome  this,  pernicious  element,  by  taking  their  proper 
part  in  the  conduct  of  primaries.  They  do  it  in  cases  of  riot  or 
disturbance  ; ruffians,  may,  for  a short  period,  have  the  upper 
hand,  but  the  moment  they  meet  the  law-abiding  citizens  they 
are  crushed.  Why  should  not  the  “ gentlemen  ” exercise  their 
power,  enroll  themselves  in  district  organizations,  organize  pri- 
maries, and  see  to  it  that  those  who  are  nominated  for  office  are 
in  every  way  qualified  ? The  only  real  reason  they  do  not  do  so  at 
present  is  that  they  do  not  care  to  spare  the  time  from  their  mad 
race  after  wealth,  coupled  with  a dislike  to  come  in  contact  with  a 
lower  element  in  society.  At  present  here  in  New  York  we  have 
taxation  without  representation.  Our  forefathers  revolted  from 


TAX-PAYERS  SHOULD  AWAKEN.  605 

the  British  yoke  because  they  were  taxed  without  their  own  con- 
sent. We  walk  up  to  the  tax-collector’s  office  and  hand  in  our 
money  without  our  opinion  having  been  paid  the  empty  compli- 
ment of  being  asked  for. 

But  the  taxed  have  none  to  blame  except  themselves.  The  only 
hope  and  salvation  for  the  future  of  the  city  is  that  the  better 
element  will  awaken  to  a full  and  complete  appreciation  of  its 
danger  and  rights,  and,  knowing  them,  will  dare  maintain 
them  in  the  face  of  all  the  politicians,  ruffians,  thieves  and  rascals 
with  which  every  branch  of  our  city  government  is  infested. 
We  have  had  enough  of  the  rule  of  the  “ tough  now  let  us 
try  the  rule  of  the  “ gentleman.” 

An  organized  effort  of  the  better  classes  to  purify  municipal  pol- 
itics will  inevitably  entail  a bitter  struggle,  because  things  have 
gone  so  far  to  the  bad.  It  will  be  necessary  to  meet  and  repel  at 
every  step  the  most  shameless  tricks,  and  the  most  audacious  and 
unscrupulous  efforts  that  will  be  made  to  deter  the  “ gentleman  ” 
from  claiming  his  own.  The  ballot  and  the  ballot-box  itself  will 
not  be  respected  ; and  in  this  connection  I would  most  strongly 
urge  the  adoption  of  the  Australian  system  of  voting,  which  has 
lately  been  adopted  in  England,  and  which,  in  brief,  is  this : Pre- 
vious to  election  the  names  of  all  the  candidates  for  each  office  are 
recorded.  On  the  day  of  election  ballots  are  furnished  for  the 
offices  to  be  filled,  containing  the  names  of  all  the  candidates  for 
each  office.  One  of  these  is  given  to  each  voter,  by  a qualified 
officer,  as  he  comes  up  to  vote ; the  ballot  is  stamped  with  an  offi- 
cial mark;  the  voter  on  receiving  it  goes  into  a small  retiring 
room  by  himself,  and  there  places  opposite  the  name  of  the  can- 
didate for  whom  he  wishes  to  vote,  a cross ; he  then  folds  the 
ballot  in  such  a way  as  to  conceal  the  names,  but  to  disclose  the 
official  stamp,  and  then  deposits  it  in  the  ballot-box,  which  is 
locked.  This  plan,  it  will  be  seen,  secures  perfect  secrecy,  inde- 
pendence and  certainty. 

I would  also  most  strongly  advise  that  the  Bureau  of  Elections 
be  taken  away  from  the  control  of  the  police  commissioners.  The 
connection  of  the  police  with  an  election  should  be  absolutely 
limited  to  preserving  the  peace  and  affording  the  safe  and  easy 
access  of  every  voter  to  the  poles.  To  allow  them  to  count  the 
ballots  and  certify  the  result  is  to  clothe  them  with  a ministerial 
function,  whereas  the  police  force  should  be  simply  executive.  A 


6 o6 


ELECTIVE  JUDICIARY. 


separate  and  entirely  independent  bureau  should  be  in  existence 
at  times  of  voting,  for  the  sole  purpose  of  counting  the  votes  and 
declaring  the  result ; and  so  completely  would  I wean  it  from 
municipal  control,  that  I would  advise  its  being  placed  in  the  hands 
of  some  perfectly  independent  officer,  to  be  appointed  by  the 
governor. 

But  let  us  suppose  that  such  a party  as  I have  alluded  to  has 
been  organized,  and  has  elected  a certain  number  of  officials.  A 
new  and  deadly  danger  can  at  once  be  foreseen.  The  professional 
politicians,  rendered  desperate  by  such  a defeat,  would  inevitably 
contest  everything  connected  with  the  election  in  the  courts,  and 
whom  should  we  find  on  the  bench  ? Judges  elected  by  the  so- 
called  political  organizations,  and  hoping  for  re-election  at  their 
hands.  This  brings  me  to  the  discussion  of  a very  grave  matter. 
I am  forced  to  the  opinion  that  it  is  wrong  to  elect  judges.  It  is 
next  to  impossible  that  a mass  of  voters,  however  organized,  can 
select  candidates  for  the  judiciary  on  account  of  their  fitness  for 
the  bench.  Now,  it  goes  without  question  that  the  political  opin- 
ions of  a man  have  nothing  whatever  to' do  with  his  legal  abilities  ; 
but  so  long  as  judges  are  elected  to  their  offices,  just  so  long  will 
they  be  elected  because  of  their  ability  to  control  votes,  and  not 
because  of  their  mental  and  moral  requirements.  It  would  seem 
to  me  a better  way  to  have  judges  appointed  by  the  governor,  with 
the  consent  of  the  senate.  Even  under  this  method  I am  quite 
aware  that  a certain  amount  of  political  bias  could  not  be  escaped, 
but  I think  a much  more  able  and  pure  judiciary  would  be  secured 
in  this  way,  than  by  leaving  the  bench  as  a plaything  for  municipal 
associations,  and  part  of  the  spoils  to  be  trafficked  in. 

Any  citizen  of  New  York  can  recall  the  terrible  depths  to 
which  the  judiciary  sank  during  the  days  of  the  Tweed  regime, 
when  certain  judges  were  simply  the  creatures  of  a bold  and  in- 
famous ring,  absolutely  subject  to  the  command  of  political 
bosses.  It  is  true  that  an  indignant  public  sentiment  was  aroused, 
which  swept  from  the  bench  those  who  had  disgraced  the  ermine  ; 
and  it  is  true  that  to-day  New  York  enjoys  a pure  and  able 
bench;  but  under  our  elective  system  we  have  good  judges  in 
spite,  and  not  by  reason,  of  it.  Let  public  sentiment  again 
become  dulled,  and  let  some  other  ring,  by  slow  and  insidious 
methods,  gain  possession  of  municipal  politics,  and  once  again,  to 
an  absolute  certainty,  we  should  see  the  creatures  of  that  ring 


MY  RESIGNATION. 


607 

mocking  justice  in  our  courts.  And  what  is  true  of  New  York 
city  is  equally  applicable  to  all  our  other  great  centers  of  popu- 
lation. 

I do  not  wish  my  preceding  remarks  to  be  taken  as  implying 
dissatisfaction  with  our  Republican  institutions.  I believe  heartily 
in  the  theory  of  the  American  system  of  government ; but  I am 
forced  to  the  conclusion  that  in  the  practical  carrying  on  of  that 
government,  at  least  in  so  far  as  it  deals  with  municipal  affairs, 
the  rules  of  safety  are  departed  from.  Republican  government 
means,  of  necesssity,  self-government ; and,  as  I have  said  before,  the 
citizens  of  our  great  cities  have  tacitly  surrendered  the  exercise  of 
their  prerogative.  The  evil  can  be  checked  if  taken  in  time  ; but  if 
allowed  to  grow  until  the  franchise  shall  become  a mere  empty 
form,  by  which  the  professional  politician  operates  his  machine, 
the  decadence  of  Republican  institutions  will  not  be  far  off ; and 
this  great  republic,  to-day  the  hope  and  glory  of  the  world,  will 
follow  the  fate  of  the  republics  of  old. 

I do  not  believe  in  a monarchy  ; but  if  we  are  to  be  ruled  by 
individuals  practically  vested  with  monarchical  powers,  let  us  have 
one  king  who*  is  a gentleman,  rather  than  twenty  thousand  kings 
who  are  “ toughs.” 

######## 

On  the  ninth  day  of  June,  1885,  my  duties  and  cares  as  superin- 
tendent of  the  New  York  police  force  ended.  I left  the  office, 
in  which  I had  spent  so  many  pleasant  hours,  and  met  so  many 
varied  experiences,  with  something  of  regret.  Regret,  because  my 
life  had  been  one  of  almost  continuous  activity  of  a nature  that 
falls  only  to  the  lot  of  those  in  my  position.  The  constant  concen- 
tration of  ideas  upon  a certain  series  of  subjects  is  inclined  to  leave 
a man  exhausted  when  confronted  with  new  duties,  or  the  need- 
lessness of  any  at  all.  And  so  with  me.  For  some  time  the 
routine  of  my  past  life  remained  with  me  with  such  potency  that  it 
was  only  after  effort  that  I could  avoid  going  to  police  headquar- 
ters and  assuming  my  former  duties.  The  training  of  my  life  as 
an  officer  was  demanding  recognition.  Little  by  little  habit  grew 
less  imperative  in  its  demands.  I began  to  form  new  ties,  new 
associations,  new  duties.  My  time  now  is  mostly  passed  in  trav- 
elling, fishing  and  hunting,  and  I can  congratulate  myself  upon 
having  become  a private  citizen  of  the  greatest  commonwealth  in 
the  world. 


6o8 


CONCLUSION. 


With  this  last  page  of  the  record  of  my  life  upon  the  desk  before 
me,  I can  say,  with  the  confidence  of  a man  under  no  obligations, 
that  I have  done  my  duty  to  the  extent  of  my  understanding ; and 
that  my  service  as  a police  officer  has  been  untrammelled  by  either 
political  or.  personal  influences.  I have  endeavored  to  discharge 
my  duties  to  the  citizens  of  New.  York,  and  in  this  I think  I have 
succeeded. 


